Venus Ascending
by Born To Be Wild
Summary: Times are perilous, and Harry finds a haven with the Weasleys during the summer before his final year at Hogwarts. Returning to school to face some of his worst problems yet, Harry finds himself struggling with self-doubt, foreboding, and love...
1. Of Ghouls and Mardi Gras

_DISCLAIMER: All characters and copyright belong to J.K. Rowling_

****

******CHAPTER ONE **

**Of Ghouls and Mardi Gras**

Harry Potter woke up with a nasty jolt, as though somebody had just sat on his middle and squeezed all the air out of him. For six o'clock in the morning, it was a pretty shrewd guess. He raised his head so fast that his forehead collided painfully with the low beam that was annoyingly positioned right above his bed. It was at times such as this that he felt a peculiar fondness for his cupboard under the stairs. It hadn't been great, of course, being very cramped and perfectly located for Dudley to make enough noise on the stairs to really get his back up, but it had at least been tall enough for him to sit upright in bed without knocking himself senseless. Being relegated to the attic was quite a come-down, even from a cupboard. Uncle Vernon clearly presumed that it made Harry's life more uncomfortable while keeping him firmly out of the way. Being able to Apparate and perform magic legally meant that it was all the more necessary to keep him locked up. 

Anyway, it was with mild irritation that Harry peered down at the thing that had woken him up. An owl, large, brown and exhausted, sitting on his stomach making a noise that sounded oddly like snoring. 

_Owls snore?_ Harry thought, distractedly, carefully removing the parchment that was tied to its leg. He didn't recognise the messenger, but the handwriting on the envelope was more than familiar. 

Harry - 

Change of plan! Can you make it here this morning instead of waiting until Friday? Dad and Fudge have been arguing again, this time about time off from work. Fudge wanted him to take a week's leave as of today, like I said before. He's still trying to push Dad out if he can. Guess that means he's getting worried! Anyway - Dad told him to bugger off, and he's managed to wrangle cover for you to Apparate this morning, between seven and eight. I would have come to tell you personally, but Mum says it's not safe even for us any more, which is a pain in the arse. I'm just getting used to this Apparation thing! Hope this message reaches you in time. This is Percy's new owl, and it keeps falling asleep. I wonder why! He's even managing to bore the pants off his animals now! If you can't make it this morning, Dad can try again at the weekend. But seriously, I'll have a nervous breakdown if I have to wait that long for some intelligent company! See you in a bit, hopefully. 

- Ron 

Harry couldn't resist a snort of laughter at the penultimate sentence. 'Intelligent company'. Since when had Ron cared about intelligent company? Surely Hermione ought to have arrived at The Burrow by now. 

He struggled out of bed, automatically reaching for his wand below his pillow and surveying the low-ceilinged room with trained caution. He could never afford to take any chances. It was that very problem that would have made the prospect of getting to Norton Avenue undetected rather daunting, especially when he had all his wordly possessions to transport at the same time, which happened to include an enormous owl cage and a broomstick. Apparation was a handy trick, and definitely the safest way of moving around the country when somebody was at the Ministry to give one cover! 

While he mused on this, he took a moment to draw aside the ragged sheet that served as a curtain, and squinted out into the watery sunlight that flooded Privet Drive and the neighbouring area. It appeared to be your ordinary Wednesday morning - postmen and dog-walkers trundling leisurely along the pavements, hailing early-risers who stood on doorsteps in their dressing-gowns, examining their delivery of milk. From somewhere not too far away, Harry heard the wail of a baby and a car starting. The world was rising, and seemed it's usual routine self. 

But Harry knew better than to trust to that. Many days that had seemed routine had often turned in to days he would wish to forget forever. Poignant, painful memories which dreamless sleep veiled for a brief number of hours came flooding back. Despair was not an emotion Harry ever chose to wallow in, and instead of becoming depressed and pessimistic about life, he preferred to take a deep breath and hope for the best. It was a tried and tested method, and it worked. Besides, this was the day he was saying goodbye to the Dursleys for a long, long time, perhaps for good. That had to be something to smile gleefully about! He decided to scribble a quick note to say that he had gone, just on the off-chance that they might wonder, and left it on his pillow. 

The brown owl was now lying prostrate on Harry's bed, and did not respond to any amount of poking. Harry left it to recover while he stuffed his toothbrush, pyjamas and the book he had fallen asleep with last night, 'Quidditch - How To Positively _Slaughter_ The Opposition', into his trunk. A simple transportation spell would send it instantly on its way to The Burrow, and Harry could Apparate swiftly after it. Not for the first time he congratulated himself on his impeccable choice of friends. That transportation spell had been an excellent discovery of Hermione's - 

Hedwig hooted resignedly as Harry persuaded her to get into her cage, placing Percy's unconscious owl on the floor beside her. Since she always arrived wherever Harry sent her looking ruffled and cross, he assumed it was not a particularly comfortable form of travel, but she bore it with customary resilience. 

"See you there, Hedwig!" Harry said, giving her a final scratch on the head before laying his wand tip on the top of the cage and muttering "_Transporta ad Burrow_." 

The cage vanished, taking the owls with it. Harry sent his Firebolt and his trunk the same way, before turning around to view the little room. He couldn't help wondering if he'd ever come back to the Dursleys. This was, after all, his final year, and there had been talk for some time now about him training to be an Auror after school, which would naturally mean living permanently in the wizarding world. He always tried to ignore the ever-increasing possibility that he might not get that far. It gave him something to aim for, after all. 

He visualised the Weasley's yard clearly in his head, judging it sensible for himself and his belongings to arrive outside in case Percy threw a fit at the condition of his owl. It was unlikely that Ron would have asked permission to use it, and Percy's bad moods were almost as terrifying as Mrs Weasley's. 

He had had quite a bit of practise at Apparating during his last term at Hogwarts, and it was with a skilful ease that he appeared unscathed in the garden of The Burrow. next to Hedwig, his Firebolt, and his faithful trunk. 

For all that it was an ungodly hour to be awake in Harry's opinion, The Burrow, as he approached it, was already bustling with activity. Smoke swirled upwards from the precariously balanced chimney, and the clatter of saucepans and crockery heralded the advent of breakfast. Tentatively, he picked his way through the chickens and geese scratching about in the yard. An eerie wailing from one of the upper floors meant that the ghoul was also awake, if in fact, it ever slept. 

It felt so good to be back again. 

"Harry, my son!" cried a red-haired figure, dangling out of a window. 

"Morning, Fred!" 

"George, you idiot!" 

"Sorry!" 

Another head, a carbon copy, popped out of the same window. "Welcome to the Den of Vice!" 

"Vice, Fred?" laughed Harry, raising an eyebrow. 

"Oh yes! You haven't seen anything like it, I'm telling you now." 

"It's absolutely disgusting!" agreed George. 

"Man, it's Mardi Gras! It's carnival time! Come, join the merriment and depravity, Harry, my boy! Come within, where young virgins braid flowers in their hair; people sway to primitive jungle rhythms, and couples copul- " 

"FRED!" 

If Harry hadn't known what a formidable woman Mrs Weasley was, he would have laughed at Fred's unmistakable wince. 

"Don't let me EVER hear you using that kind of language in front of me again! You ought to be setting your sister an example!" 

"We were just - " 

"I don't care what you were just doing. Come down and eat your breakfast before I come up there and give you what for!" 

"But Mum!" 

A piercing shriek from the depths of the house made Harry jump, and both heads disappeared from the window like a shot. 

"FRED, GEORGE! I swear, I WILL KILL YOU BOTH!" 

"What is it, Ginny?" came Mrs Weasley's voice. 

"That bucket of water over the door trick is SO OLD now, Fred!" 

The lack of response meant that either the twins were rolling on the floor in hysterics, or Mrs Weasley had indeed gone upstairs and given them 'what for'. 

"For Merlin's SAKE, what is all the RACKET?" 

Harry decided to sit on his trunk on the lawn for a while, until peace was restored. Besides, it was quite amusing. 

"Shut up, Perce!" 

"Oh well, that's nice, isn't it? I get woken up at the crack of dawn by screams and yells and crashes and wailing, then I - " 

"It's not the crack of dawn, Percy, dear, it's seven o'clock." 

"Perce, just forget it and come back to bed." 

"It's the principle, Penny, my love." 

"Sod the principle, Perce. Get back in here now!" 

Another male voice joined the onslaught now. Mr Weasley's calm-in-the-face-of-death tone was unmistakable. 

"Children, children, what's all this?" 

"Your sons, Arthur, are a disgrace!" 

"Mum!" 

"Oh, Fred, just go downstairs and eat. You too, George. I'll deal with the pair of you later. Ginny, are you all right?" 

"Yes! Wet, but otherwise unscathed." 

"Well, I don't know, Molly, my dear, but they aren't usually this rowdy first thing in the morning, are they?" 

"You wouldn't believe it. You'd sleep through an Unforgivable Curse." 

"What's going on?" 

"Breakfast, Ron. Now!" 

"Harry here yet?" 

"It's gone seven, so he ought to be. Come on, downstairs everyone!" 


	2. Of Dead Owls and Dragon's Bile

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Of Dead Owls and Dragon's Bile**

Harry pushed his trunk round to the back door, and hesitantly peered through the glass. Fred and George were sitting at one end of the long table, shovelling in great forkfuls of bacon and egg. Several chickens had wandered in and were clucking happily at the twins' feet. A very weary looking Mr Weasley shuffled in wrapped in a brown tartan dressing gown, yawning. 

"Mornin' boys," he mumbled, pulling the Daily Prophet out from under a plate of half-eaten crumpets. 

"Mornin' Dad," the twins mumbled back. 

Ron appeared in the doorway. He looked terrible. His red hair was sticking up in all directions, and he peered out from under very puffy eyelids. 

"Whasser breakfast?" 

"Food," answered George, promptly. 

He received a lazy swipe on the back of his head. 

Harry chose this moment to open the door. "Hello all!" 

"Ah, hello, Harry, my lad!" cried Fred, as though he had only just noticed him. 

"Um, hello - Fred?" 

"Come on in, Harry," said Ron, lowering himself gingerly into a chair. He groaned. "I swear I have never, ever felt this bad in years." 

"Serves you right for overdoing the elderflower wine last night," muttered Mr Weasley, leafing through the greased pages of the Daily Prophet. "Yes, come in, Harry, make yourself at home." 

Harry couldn't suppress a snigger. "Elderflower wine?" 

"Yeah, well," said Ron, waving his hand dismissively, "that stuff packs a hard one if you haven't eaten anything all day." 

"Yeah, right," laughed George. 

"You ate more than anyone at dinner, Ronniekins," said Fred, with a wink at Harry. 

"Shut the hell up," was Ron's feeble reply. "My head feels like the Quidditch World Cup is going on inside it." 

"And don't you start!" Mrs Weasley had entered. Didn't miss a trick, that woman. "We never talk like that at home, Ron, so I don't know where you boys pick it up. Ah, hello, Harry, dear! Cup of tea?" 

"Um, yes, thankyou." 

Mrs Weasley beamed at him, and began pointing her wand at various utensils. 

"No Hermione yet?" Harry asked. 

Ron shook his head, and then winced. "No. Said I'd messed up her revision plan, or something, and she couldn't come until Friday." 

"Revision? We haven't even got back to school yet!" 

"Exactly. Merlin, she's weird." 

"Ron!" 

"Sorry, Mum." 

"Go and dunk your head in the water butt, lad," suggested Mr Weasley. "That's what I always used to do." 

"Better still, drink this." Mrs Weasley plonked in front of Ron a glass of a horrible looking green liquid that was smoking slightly. "It'll clear your head out in no time." 

Harry smiled to himself as Ron's face turned as green as the concoction in front of him. 

"No thanks, Mum. I might pass." 

"Drink it!" 

"But Mum - " 

"Oh well, if you want to go around all day with a raging headache then that's fine! Oh, look, Harry, you brought Amelia in with you." 

Harry turned round to see a tiny white goat lying on the stone floor, with its head against his trunk. 

"Um - should I take it out?" 

"No, leave her there, dear, she'll be all right." 

Suddenly, Harry remembered Percy's owl, lying in a heap at the bottom of Hedwig's cage. 

"Ron," he hissed, across the table. "Ron!" 

Ron lazily opened one eye and grunted. 

"I think there's something wrong with Percy's owl. I couldn't wake it up at home, so I brought it with me, just in - um - in case. It's either concussed or dead, I reckon." 

Ron didn't move a muscle, but an expression of frantic panic flooded his eyes. "Oh, Merlin! He's going to eat me alive. Wait, are you sure?" 

"Well, he looks dead, and if he's alive he's slept through a transportation spell. Doesn't look good, does it?" 

Ron edged forward in his chair and peered over at the owl. "Hide it!" he said. "Don't let Perce see, for goodness' sake!" 

"Don't let Perce see what?" interrupted George, excitedly. "What have you done, Ronniekins?" 

"Shut up, Forge. I haven't done anything." 

"You're an apalling liar." 

Another shriek halted any argument that might have followed. 

"FRED! GEORGE! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" 

The twins pushed their chairs back, and made a run for it out of the back door, grabbing a piece of toast each as they went. 

"Gotta go, see you later, boys!" 

"MUM!" 

"Ginny, what on earth's the matter?" 

"MUM, they've done it AGAIN!" 

Ron massaged his temples and gazed regretfully at the smouldering potion in front of him. "Reckon I might need this after all." 

"GINNY! WHAT is with all the YELLING?" 

"Go away, Perce!" 

"I'm trying to have a nice, peaceful lie-in with my wife, thankyou very much!" 

Ron started nodding frantically. "Yeah, I'm definitely going to need this." He knocked it back in one gulp. Harry watched with interest as his ears turned red and began to emit smoke. Ron clutched the table and wheezed. 

"What's in this stuff?" he gasped, through watering eyes. 

Mr Weasley put down the paper and reached for the teapot. "Oh, essence of lemonroot, some powdered gorgon's tail - oh, and your mother's secret ingredient - " 

"Which is?" 

"Dragon's bile. Work's a treat. Charlie always brings her back a bottle or two when he comes home." 

Both Harry and Ron cringed. 

Mrs Weasley came storming in again, rolling up her sleeves. "Where are those twins? i'm going to run after them hell for leather to the end of the world if necessary!" 

"What have they done, Molly?" 

"You don't want to know," she answered, grimly, tearing the back door open with such tremendous force that the knob came off in her hand. She tossed it onto a cupboard top and stalked into the garden. 

Ron gesticulated wildly at Harry once Mr Weasley had taken up the paper again. He pointed to Hedwig's cage, and then to the door that led out into the hallway. 

"Surely Percy's up here?" whispered Harry, when they were safely outside the kitchen with the cage. 

"Um, of a sort, yes." 

"What?" 

"He was up half the flamin' night, so he damn well ought to be asleep." 

"With Ginny screaming the place down every five minutes? Why was he up half the night?" 

"We don't talk about it," Ron replied, gravely. "I'm scarred." 

Harry knotted his forehead. Then light dawned. "Oh, I understand." 

"I sincerely hope you don't. Take my advice, Harry - if you ever end up living with a married couple, don't take the bedroom right underneath theirs." 

"OK. But tell me, Ron, why are we standing in the middle of your hallway clutching a bird cage with an apparently dead owl in it?" 

"I'm going to try to stash it in my room for a while, until Hermione gets here." 

"Hermione?" 

"She's a walking encyclopedia, Harry. Let's hope she can do something!" 

"Won't Percy actually notice that he's missing an owl?" 

"You've got to be kidding! He's got a week off from work, which means Penny, Penny, Penny." He shivered at the memory. "So hopefully he won't need Granville before Friday." 

Harry laughed aloud, dropping his half of the cage. He caught it again just before it hit the floor. "Granville? Merlin, Ron, your animals have some bizarre names." 

"Hey, don't blame me. None of them are mine, it's all my crazy family." 

They were half way up the stairs by now, their progress distinctly hindered by the constant twists and turns. By the sound of the yells coming from the garden, the twins had been ambushed and violently reprimanded. Harry mourned the loss of witnessing the scene. 

"Damn it, Harry, it's Penny!" 

"Where?" 

"In the bathroom! Back, back!" 

"I can't go back, my foot's stuck!" 

"She's going to see us!" Ron was hopping up and down on one leg in desperation. 

"She'll hear you before she sees us, shut UP!" 

The bathroom door opened, and Penny crossed the landing, still in her long shirt. Ginny's head poked out of a doorway along the corridor. "Penny! Watch the frame!" she whispered. 

"What?" 

"The door frame. Fred and George have jinxed all the bedroom doors." 

Harry and Ron crouched uncomfortably on the stairs, ducking their heads down. 

"What do I do?" Penny was asking. 

"Use your wand." 

"It's inside!" 

Ginny tiptoed across to her, wrapped in a towel. She pointed hers at the doorknob. 

"_Finite incantatem_!" 

"Cheers Gin!" 

"No problem." 

Penny's bedroom door clicked shut, and Ginny turned to go back down the hallway - until a small thud and a cough caught her attention. An unmistakable quiff of messy red hair was sticking up over the line of the floor beside the stairs. She leaned over the bannister. 

"Ron? Harry? What the heck are you doing?" 

"Shut up, Ginny," hissed Ron. "We're trying to get up to my room without Perce seeing." 

"Is that Granville?" asked Ginny, noticing the pile of brown feathers inside the cage they were clutching. 

"What's left of him, yes," replied Harry, with a tentative laugh. 

"What happened to him?" 

"Tell you later, just help us get him upstairs quick," muttered Ron, passing the cage up to Ginny. 

"I'm only wearing a towel, Ron, I've only got one free hand!" 

"One's enough, now just take it! My back is breaking down here!" 

Ron groaned as he unfolded his six feet into a standing position, almost losing his balance as Harry reached for his arm to help himself up. 

"Hush, you two, he'll hear!" warned Ginny, steadying the cage against the bannister while she hoisted up her towel. 

"Gin! you'll drop it! Give it here!" 

"I can't, I need my hands for the towel. I've got nothing on under here!" 

"Didn't need to know that, Gin, come on!" 

"OK, I've got the cage. Not the towel, but got the cage." 

"Oi, Harry, take the other side," ordered Ron. "My foot's stuck again." 

"OK, seriously, Ron, I need some help here," whispered Ginny, frantically. 

"I'm busy, ask Harry." He sat on the top step trying to manoeuvre his ankle out of the railings. 

"I'm sure Harry doesn't want to hold my towel up, Ron!" 

"Neither do I, particularly. Can't you do it?" 

"No - the cage will fall if I take my hands away." 

Harry shut his eyes for a minute while he made a quick decision. 

"It's OK, Gin." He slid his arm round her shoulder. 

"Thanks!" He was relieved that she was too occupied in trying to lower the cage to the floor to notice the rather fetching shade of red his face had just gone. 

"OK, I might go and put some clothes on now," she said, smiling. 

What was that in her eyes just then? Harry wondered. Laughter? Amusement? She'd have died of embarrassment a couple of years ago after that. But then, she'd changed last year, a lot. He'd noticed it ever since Hallowe'en, when he'd accidentally got himself locked in a cupboard in McGonagall's room without his wand. Ginny had let him out but she'd forgotten to hold the door while she hauled him to his feet, so it had shut tight before either of them had chance to climb out, with Ginny's wand on the outside. They'd been stuck there for two hours before Hermione found them. They hadn't talked about anything special, just things. But still, there had been something about her that night. He couldn't put his finger on it. Yes, that had been an interesting two hours to say the least. 

"Oi, stop gawping at my sister and give me a hand!" Ron poked him in the back and pointed to the cage. Harry realised he'd been staring at Ginny's departing back while he'd been lost in thought. 


	3. The Temptation of Percy

**CHAPTER THREE**

**The Temptation of Percy**

"Why are we going this way?" asked Harry a few moments later. Ron was steering him further up the stairs towards the attic. "Your bedroom's not up here!" 

"I know," grunted Ron. "But a certain pair of somebodies decided it would be absolutely hysterical to charm my bedroom door so it won't open, and they won't give me the counter-charm to fix it." 

"Oh, great!" exclaimed Harry. "So where are we going with this then?" 

"Up to the attic, down the outside stairs and through my bedroom window." 

Harry sighed. Typical Weasley life, he thought. "Why don't we just leave Granville in the attic?" he suggested. 

"Nah, tried putting stuff in there before. The ghoul just throws everything down the stairs again." 

There was no reply to that, really, Harry decided, and let Ron lead the way to his bedroom. 

They met Percy on the way back down talking to Mr Weasley on the landing, and looking thoroughly disgruntled. Their hearts sank. 

"The only time I ever get off and Fudge has to go and wreck it!" 

"I know it's tough, Percy, but it's only two days out of a week, and I'm sure Penny won't mind." 

"That's not the point, Dad. When I'm given a week off I expect a week off, not to be dragged in because the Head of Department's throwing a sickie! I could throw a sickie any time I wanted, but thankfully I don't need to stoop to his level." 

Mr Weasley sighed. "I know, Perce, and that's good, but - " 

"It's all right, Dad, I'll go in. Although, Merlin knows what I'm going to tell Penny!" The bedroom door closed behind him. 

"What's happened, Dad?" Ron asked. 

"Oh, an owl from Fudge. Needs Percy in the office straight away." Mr Weasley stepped cautiously down the stairs. 

"That means he'll need Granville, Ron," hissed Harry, nudging him in the ribs. 

"It's only two days, Dad said. We'll just tell Perce that he hasn't got back yet." 

"Will he buy that?" 

"Yeah," shrugged Ron. "But I'm dead if Hermione can't help on Friday!" 

Down in the kitchen Harry and Ron found order re-established. Fred and George fidgeted on their chairs under the scrutinous eye of Mrs Weasley. 

"Can we get down, Mum?" asked George, plaintively. 

"No. You'll stay here until I say you can go." 

"Come, come, Molly," said Mr Weasley, stretching his legs out under the table, cradling his mug of tea in his hands. "They're nineteen years old, not nine." 

"As soon as they start acting like nineteen year olds, I will treat them as such. Going round planting buckets of water and jinxing doorknobs. I don't know. Can't take my eye off you for a second, can I? What will it be next, I wonder? Exploding soap in the bath? Disembodied voices in the lavatory?" 

Ginny, now fully clothed Harry was pleased to see, sniggered into her coffee. She looked really pretty today, he found himself thinking. She didn't often have her hair loose, and now that she did Harry realised that it was darker than he remembered. In fact, she wasn't much like he remembered at all, really. 

"When did Hermione say she was coming, Ron?" Mrs Weasley asked. 

"Friday," he mumbled. 

"Are you all right, dear?" Mrs Weasley tilted his head back and stared into his eyes. 

"Yeah, fine thanks." 

"That potion's wearing off," she muttered. "How odd, it usually lasts all day." 

Harry, sitting next to Fred and George, felt them shaking with laughter. However, they waited until Mrs Weasley had left the room to let themselves go. 

"What's up with you two?" said Ron. 

"Nothing, nothing at all," replied Fred, hastily composing himself and nudging George. 

Harry leaned over towards them. "What have you done?" 

George grinned. "That wasn't just elderflower wine he had last night." 

"We added a touch of our own to his glass," said Fred. 

"WHAT?" Ron had heard. "What did you put in it?" 

"A Weasley Special," replied Fred, snorting with laughter. 

"I KNEW that wasn't your ordinary elderflower!" yelled Ron. 

Ginny and Harry ducked as Ron launched himself at the twins. 

"Now, now, boys," said Mr Weasley, hardly batting an eyelid. "If you must do that, do it outside." 

Percy and Penny arrived in the doorway just as the twins, closely followed by Ron, made a swift exit through the other. 

"Why can't they control themselves?" Percy muttered. 

"Oh, lighten up, Perce, it's summer!" said Ginny, flicking a stray crumb of toast at him. 

"Hmm - summer. Some of us have to work through summer while some of us can afford to lounge around doing nothing." 

"Never mind, Perce, at least you've got Penny to lounge around with." 

Penny and Harry both sniggered. Percy, on the other hand, did not see the joke. 

"I don't like what you're implying." 

"Just chill out." 

There was no retort readily on the tip of his tongue, so Percy took a mouthful of bacon, making do with a disapproving scowl. 

Harry felt something kick him under the table. He was about to protest, but caught Ginny's eye just in time. She moved her head in the direction of the front yard, where Fred and George were holding Ron's upper torso in the pigsty. Fred waved to them, pretending to file his nails. 

"Harry!" came Ron's muffled yells. "Get out here now!" 

Percy strained his neck to see out of the window as Harry and Ginny ran across the yard to Ron's aid. 

"I wish they'd grow up," he complained. 

"Oh, they're having fun, Perce," protested Penny. 

"They can have fun without acting like children." 

"Come on, cheer up," she said, with a flash of her beautiful smile. "You know that you can't concentrate when you go to work in a bad temper." 

He leaned back and sighed. She was good for him. Where would he be without her? In a sorry mess, that's where. For ten minutes or so, he contented himself with the view of her sitting opposite him, buttering a croissant. If he wasn't so attached to his parents, he'd be thoroughly ashamed of his family, showing him up like this in front of Penny. 

"I ought to go, dear," he said, kissing her formally on the forehead as he rose. 

"OK. Have a nice day, and don't be too late." 

"Five o'clock sharp, I promise." 

"And don't get stressed!" 

"I'll try!" 

Several hours later found Percy sitting at his desk in the Ministry, poring over a veritable tower of documents that filled his in-tray. 

The room was boiling hot, and none of the windows would open, even with the assistance of a wand. Percy was forced to sit as upright and looking as smart as he could in a shirt with the top button undone, his tie hanging loose around his neck, and a pair of dark green braces, fraying at the edges. And even more annoyingly, his glasses kept sliding off the end of his nose, he was perspiring so much. 

"Mr Weasley!" 

"What do you want?" replied Percy, irritably, stuffing a file of parchment into a drawer haphazardly. 

A tiny witch put her head round his door. The wide smile she wore succeeded only in exasperating him more. "Just a quick word, Mr Weasley, sir." 

"Yes, all right, what is it?" 

"Mr Postelthwaite sent me, about the conference next weekend at Sunderby Hall." 

"Yes? Well? I don't have all day, woman!" 

The little witch jumped and took a step back, the smile wiped off her face. She began stammering. "Oh, well, yes. Um - Sunderby Hall, sir. Mr Postelthwaite wanted me to run over the arrangements with you, sir." 

"I handed no less than eleven lists in to Mr Postelthwaite three days ago with absolutely everything accounted for. What's the problem?" 

"Um - the interpreters, sir." 

"The what?" barked Percy. 

"The interpreters, sir. Mr Postelthwaite said there's a problem with the interpreters." 

"What interpreters?" 

"For the conference, sir." 

"Yes, I KNOW for the conference, but with which interpreter is there a PROBLEM?" 

"The French Ambassador, sir. There was no mention of a French interpreter on the lists Mr Postelthwaite received." 

"Oh, for the love of MERLIN!" yelled Percy. "Then find one, woman! Don't stand their wittering on about it. We need ACTION!" 

"Begging your pardon, sir - " The witch looked thoroughly petrified now. She was shaking from head to toe and was even dropping a curtsey between every sentence. "There aren't any available." 

"WHAT?" 

"That is to say, sir, we haven't any qualified interpreters on hand to attend the conference, sir, but there's a young lady from the Department of Foreign Liaison who is prepared to take on the job." 

"Well, use her then!" 

"But she's not qualified, sir, she just happens to be French, that's all - " 

"Well, I can't think of a better qualification than that, CAN YOU?" 

"Um - no sir." 

"EXCELLENT!" 

"Shall I send her in to you, sir, for debriefing?" 

Percy spluttered into his coffee. "For _what_, I beg your pardon?" 

"Debriefing, sir. You know, a run through of the itinerary, sir." 

"Oh, yes, very well then. Wheel her in." 

In desperation he tried the window again, putting all his strength into the upwards force, in vain. He leaned his face against the cool glass, letting his glasses slip off his nose a little. 

"Er, Meester Weasley?" 

Percy span round like a shot, as though somebody had just called him to attention. He rearranged his glasses hurriedly. 

He found himself staring into the wide blue eyes of a stunningly beautiful young woman. With flawless, faintly tanned skin and a slender figure to challenge even the most exquisite fashion models, visible through the skin-tight pink summer dress she was wearing. She smiled, showing off her brilliant white teeth beneath a pair of full, rosy lips. Long blonde ringlets cascaded over her bare shoulders and across the edge of her face in a side parting. 

Percy's jaw dropped. 


	4. The Vexation of Lecherous Portraits

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**The Vexation of Lecherous Portraits**

"Ah yes, um, yes, of course. Um - you are, Miss, um, Mademoiselle - ?" 

"Delacour." 

Percy paused half way as he made to sit down in his chair again. 

"Delacour? Miss Fleur Delacour?" 

"Why yes," she replied, in a thick French accent. She slid gracefully into the chair facing him. "_Excusez-moi_, but, do I know you?" 

"Oh, no, no, not at all," he replied, hastily. "But I believe we met briefly during the Triwizard Competition at Hogwarts about two years ago. I was one of the judges, in place of Mr Crouch." 

Fleur's face broke into a wide smile, and she laughed, a beautiful, lyrical laugh, tossing her head back. Soft blonde curls bounced around her face. "Ah yes, I remember. The Weasleys, of course. You 'ave a large family, monsieur, non?" 

Percy spluttered again. "Um, well, no, not me personally, no, I - I - " 

"Are you married, monsieur?" 

"Um, well, I, yes, I suppose so." 

"You suppose so?" she repeated, curiously. "Either you 'ave a wife, or you don't." 

"Um, yes, well." Percy closed his mouth and shook himself. "Yes. Yes, I have a wife. My Penelope." 

"Ah!" she exclaimed, edging a little closer to the desk. "And 'ave you been married long?" 

"Er, a month or two." 

"Oh, newly-weds! _C'est magnifique_!" 

Percy volunteered a nervous laugh. 

"Tell me," she went on. "Are you the only Weasley to be married?" 

"So far, yes. I mean, my brothers Fred, George and Ron are still far too young for that sort of thing, you know - " 

"But you 'ave uzzer bruzzers also, non?" 

Percy felt thoroughly disconcerted by now, and was ten times hotter than he'd been before the arrival of this beautiful young French girl. 

"Bill and Charlie? Oh, they're - " He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "They're abroad still, though we expect them back any day now." 

Fleur leaned back again, thoughtfully. 

"Charlie. Is he the dragon Weasley?" 

Percy couldn't stifle a chuckle. "Well, yes, I suppose he is." 

"_Oui_, I remember. The Welsh Green." She shivered slightly. 

"And Bill works for Gringotts. Not actually sure what he does, to be honest." 

Fleur smiled. "And your family is all togezzer this summer? How nice!" 

"Well, not quite yet. My younger brothers are expecting some friends along very shortly, and I believe my grandmother is coming at some point too." Percy visibly blanched at the very word 'grandmother'. He took a long gulp of coffee. 

"You are not looking forward to your grandmuzzer's visit?" 

Percy coughed again. "Oh, no, it's not that, exactly. She's just a little, um, well - difficult to handle." He sighed. "Yes, I'm in for an interesting summer." 

"It sounds delightful." She batted her long eyelashes and smiled dazzlingly at Percy. 

He swallowed. "Well, if you've got the time - " He closed his eyes and sighed. "I can't believe I'm about to say this. Why don't you come back for dinner tonight?" 

"Why did I do that? Why did I do that? I must be out of my tiny mind!" Percy was muttering to himself as he made his way briskly through the wide cloisters of the Ministry of Magic down to the concierge in the entrance hall. 

"Weasley? You all right?" An aging wizard had put a hand on Percy's shoulder as they passed. 

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine thankyou, Mr Fitzherbert. Got a lot on my mind." 

Percy hastily manoeuvred through the throng of people making their way out of offices and conference rooms. Inwardly cursing every aspect of human nature known to mankind, he thrust his way to the very messy and distinctly lop-sided reception desk. 

"Afternoon, Mr Weasley," said the witch sitting behind it, brandishing her wand rather violently as she filed away various documents and files. "Just off home?" 

Percy grunted. "Any messages from Hieronymus?" 

"No, sir, not a peep. Are you in again tomorrow, sir?" 

"So it seems," replied Percy, through gritted teeth. 

"Ah, there you are, Percy!" 

Percy turned round sharply, almost dropping his briefcase. Fleur was smiling up at him, flicking back a loose strand of hair that had fallen over her face. She had changed since her lunchtime interview in Percy's office into a diaphanous floral dress with a perilously low neck-line. A long, silk scarf was tied fashionably round her neck and slung over her shoulder, and she was wearing a pair of stilettos heels that showed off her slender legs and Riviera tan to perfection. 

Behind her, on the panelled wall, the Ministers and officials of centuries gone by winked and wolf-whistled in their portraits. One rather youthful Minister in a shoulder length white wig and very effeminate doublet and hose was practically foaming at the mouth. Percy snorted in disgust. "Oi, you lot! Behave yourselves in front of a lady, if you please!" 

A very dignified witch, obviously Muggle-born, for she was wearing a grey suit and carrying a briefcase, frowned dispprovingly as she passed. "Shocking, absolutely shocking!" 

Percy was blushing again, thoroughly embarrassed. Besides, he had only just started wondering how he was going to justify the presence of his impromptu, not to mention excessively beautiful, guest to Penny. 

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Delacour. They have no manners at all." 

"Oh, Fleur, please. I don't mind, really, but thankyou for being so chivalrous." She smiled. "Are you ready to Apparate now?" she asked, with a laugh. That beautiful, musical laugh that reminded Percy of balmy summer evenings and tinkling brooks. 

"Yes," he managed to choke out. "Yes, of course." 

The sun was hanging lazily in the sky over the meadow, still bright and warm. In a half-hearted attempt to get some holiday work done while they had the chance, Ron, Ginny and Harry lay stretched out on the grass, most of their books still firmly closed by their sides. 

"Wish Hermione was here," said Ron, shielding his eyes from the glare. 

Harry almost jumped out of his skin in shock. "_What_?" 

"I could use her brain right now." 

"Oh, that's really nice, Ron!" exclaimed Ginny, poking him in the ribs sharply. 

"You know what I mean. It's a stinker of an essay Snape gave us to do last term. I bet he got it out of some several thousand year old tome in the Restricted Section, which would explain why none of us can do it." 

"You don't know that, Ron. It's only you and Harry that can't do it." 

"Shut up, Gin." 

"I could give it a fair stab if I wanted to," Harry objected. Then he saw Ginny's eyebrow arching and her very dubious expression. "I just don't want to," he added, with a laugh. 

"What's got you so hooked up on work all of a sudden?" asked Ron. "You're turning into Hermione!" 

"I could do a lot worse," replied Ginny. "You two don't appreciate her, you know." 

Ron raised his head slightly, and looked at his little sister with utter perplexity. "We appreciate her!" he said, belligerently. "Don't we, Harry?" 

"I'd say we do," he assented. 

"No you don't! You treat her like some kind of personal encyclopedia!" 

Harry smirked as Ron blushed profusely. 

"We don't like her just for her brain, you know," he mumbled. 

Ginny tossed the remnants of the daisy she'd been picking at onto Ron's chest. "Hmm - perhaps you'd better make sure she knows that before we go back to school." 

"Was there any doubt?" exclaimed Ron, dramatically. 

He didn't spot the sudden guarded look that appeared in Ginny's eyes just then. But Harry did. He refrained from comment, but filed the thought away in his mind for future consideration. 

"Dinner's ready, everyone!" called Mrs Weasley from the patio. 

"Oooh, alfresco today," observed Ginny, looking over her shoulder at the long table arranged underneath a slightly wobbly gazebo. 

She rose to her feet in a swift movement, and dusted the stray daisy petals off her jumper. 

"Give us a hand, Gin?" Ron entreated, holding his arm out to be pulled to his feet. 

"You're a lazy git, Ron," she said, good-naturedly. But she obliged. 

"Pity another lazy git?" said Harry, grinning. Ginny stood over him, smiling slightly, silhouetted in the golden sunlight. Pure country girl, Harry thought, as she hauled him up. All that was missing in her rustic appearance was a crimson poppy to put in her hair. 

Lost in his thoughts again, Harry didn't notice that he was still holding one of Ginny's hands until they were half way across the meadow. 

"Oi, none of that, thankyou," Ron said, reprovingly. "I'm not a third wheel." 

Was she blushing? Harry glanced at Ginny's face in the golden light. He couldn't tell. 


	5. An Invitation to Dinner and Marital Disu...

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**An Invitation to Dinner and Marital Disunity**

Mr Weasley and the twins were already in position around the table by the time Harry, Ron and Ginny reached the patio. 

"Fred! Mind your manners!" scolded Mrs Weasley, as Fred stretched a hand out towards one of the platters on the tablecloth. "We've got a guest with us tonight." 

"Mum, Harry's practically family!" cried George. "And he doesn't mind, do you, Harry?" 

"Of course, Harry is part of the family," agreed Mrs Weasley, laying a steaming roast goose in the very centre of the dishes and plates. "I mean we have another guest." 

"_Ooooooooh_, who?" asked Ron, clambering over the bench. 

"Percy's brought one of his colleagues from the Ministry to dinner, and I'm sure she'd appreciate it if you all behaved yourself!" 

"A girl?" exclaimed Fred, nearly knocking over his pumpkin juice. 

"Fred!" hissed Mr Weasley, warningly. 

"A young lady, yes," replied Mrs Weasley with a frown. "And you're to act like the gentlemen I know you can be when you put your mind to it, and don't show Percy up, or your father and I." 

"Does Penny know?" inquired George, innocently. 

"Of course she knows. She was helping me in the kitchen when Percy and his friend Apparated." 

"Aye aye," murmured Fred, nudging George in the ribs. "There'll be fireworks tonight, I'll bet!" 

"That's better than - the other thing," said Ron, suppressing a shudder. 

"Who is she, Mum?" Ginny asked, helping herself to some juice. 

"Didn't quite catch the name. Fleur something. French, I think." 

The table went deadly quiet, except for the clang as Ron's fork hit his plate. 

"D - D - Delacour?" he volunteered. 

"Yes, that was it! It rang a bell with me too, but I can't think why." 

"Triwizard Competition two years ago at Hogwarts," said Ginny, very entertained by the expression on Ron's face. 

"Oh yes, of course!" cried Mrs Weasley. "I kept thinking of Hogwarts." 

Amid the sniggers of the twins and Ginny, Mrs Weasley took off her apron and went inside to bring out the others. 

"Merlin, Harry!" whispered Ron, frantically. "What's old Perce doing bringing her back here? She'll die of shock!" 

"She wouldn't have agreed to come if she didn't want to," Harry replied. "Remember what she was like? She'd have told Percy where to get off." 

"She must be under some delusional misapprehension," remarked Fred, taking the opportunity while Mrs Weasley's back was turned to pinch an olive from one of the dishes. 

The kitchen door swung open, and all heads turned to watch the entry of the visitor. Ron's fork hit his plate again, and he blushed the colour of his hair. Even Harry's eyebrows rose. 

"Good afternoon, everyone," she said, smiling at everyone around the table. Her voice was quite low and velvety, sounding even more sweet in the early evening air. 

"Ah, Mademoiselle Delacour!" cried Mr Weasley, jumping to his feet. "Please, please sit down! You're very welcome, I assure you." 

Fleur elegantly glided into the chair he was holding out for her. "Why, thankyou! I'm delighted to be 'ere." 

"Really?" Ron found himself saying. 

Fleur looked at him in surprise. "Why, of course! You are Ron, yes? I remember you from 'Ogwarts. Ah! And 'Arry Potter! Goodness, what memories!" 

"How's your sister?" Harry asked, wondering why he was making the sort of polite dinner conversation usually to be heard at one of Aunt Petunia's soirées. 

"She is very well, thankyou," laughed Fleur. "I am surprised you remember." 

Harry fell silent. That Triwizard Tournament was engraved in his memory for the rest of his living days. Nothing would ever wipe it away, no matter how hard he tried to forget. The culmination of the Third Task would haunt his dreams for many more years to come, and he had resigned himself to the inevitable. 

He caught Ginny's eye across the table. She was twirling a breadstick in her fingers, and laughing at one of Fred's witticisms. Harry's breath caught in his throat. That had been happening for a while now. Ginny Weasley seemed to have the unique power to guide him out of his more morbid musings just by being near him. Strange, that. 

Mrs Weasley bustled in then, carrying a huge treacle pudding in an absolutely vast dish. "Since it's a special occasion," she said, with a smile at Fleur, "I thought I'd make my _piéce de resistance_!" 

Since Fleur's entrance, nobody had really taken much notice of Percy and Penny, sitting at opposite ends of the table. Harry stole a glance at them now, while Mrs Weasley moved some of the plates to make room for the pudding. Percy was frowning, and his ears had turned red, like Ron's did when he was embarrassed or angry. Penny sat very straight in her chair, delicately sipping her drink, looking distinctly peeved. Harry nudged Ron. 

"Oh dear," he whispered, nodding towards Penny surreptitiously. Ron merely rolled his eyes and continued attacking his goose. 

"_Vive la France_," George said, stupidly, lifting his glass in a dramatic gesture. 

Fleur smiled enchantingly at him, showing no sign of the superciliousness or disdain Ron and Harry remembered at the start of the Triwizard Tournament. Although there was a glint in her eye that betokened either amusement or naivety. This environment was plainly new to her. Harry thought. It was unlikely that she'd ever experienced anything like this lifestyle before, being of the elegant, refined society of Beauxbatons. Visions of luxury penthouse apartments and walk-in wardrobes full of designer garments filled Harry's imagination, along with the faintly amusing scene of Fleur lying on a couch beside an enormous swimming pool being fanned by two muscular slaves. 

"How do you like the goose?" asked Mrs Weasley, hopefully. 

"_C'est parfait, Madame_!" replied Fleur, laughing her charming laugh again. "It is all so lovely. And the view is _incroyable_!" 

Mrs Weasley nodded slowly, evidently unsure of how to respond. 

"It means beautiful, Mum," Ginny whispered as Fleur returned to her meal. 

"Yes, it's a pretty spot just here," agreed Mr Weasley. "Not many places like this in England, that's for sure." He gazed fondly out across the fields to the valley beyond, where the river ran like a glassy ribbon through the trees. 

"Pretty?" repeated Fleur. "So much more than pretty! I 'ave never seen anything like it." 

"I'll bet you haven't," muttered Ron, with a frown. Luckily only Harry heard him. 

"Do you live in the country, Miss Delacour?" Mr Weasley was asking. 

"Sometimes," she replied. "Although I 'ave an apartment in London at the moment. My parents 'ave a small chateau on the Loire, but they spend more time in Paris nowadays. My father is an investor with Gringotts Paris, you see." 

"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley. "Then I'm astonished you haven't met my oldest son Bill! He works for Gringotts. He goes all over the world for them. He's definitely been to Paris once or twice." 

"I'm sure I would 'ave remembered him if we had met," said Fleur, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 

"He's coming back next week as a matter of fact," Mrs Weasley remarked. "He's got the rest of the summer off. You ought to come back one day and meet him. I'm sure the pair of you would have lots to talk about. Paris and so on." 

Whatever Fleur might have been about to reply was lost in the uproar of the sudden pandemonium that erupted. Ginny screamed so loudly that even the house elves at Hogwarts must have heard her. 

"WHAT IS THAT DOING HERE?" she yelled, pushing her chair back and moving several steps away from the table, spilling the jug of pumpkin juice all over the tablecloth. A small green toad was sitting in a platter with the remains of Mrs Weasley's roast goose, staring lazily at the faces peering down at it. 

"OH, by all the stars!" Mrs Weasley shrieked. "HOW did that get in there?" 

Fred and George folded their hands in their laps and stared up into the sky, innocently. 

"FRED! GEORGE! WHAT did I tell you this morning?" 

The twins didn't wait to be reminded. They dashed off at the speed of light down towards the river, cackling with insane laughter. 

"You can't hide forever!" Mrs Weasley bellowed after them, hands planted firmly on her hips. The very earth seemed to quiver in terror. 

Fleur took her napkin and began delicately mopping up the spilled juice that was spreading along the tablecloth. Mr Weasley had leaned back in his chair, covering his eyes with one of his hands. 

"What can I say, Miss Delacour? I'm so terribly, terribly sorry," he said, agonisingly. "My sons are a disaster on four legs." 

"Oh, no, _Monsieur_, they are lively." 

"Too lively by half," Mrs Weasley muttered. 

Percy's face had turned a very deep scarlet. No doubt he was resisting the impulse to Apparate to the other side of the world. "Fleur, I'm so sorry," he began. 

Fleur held up a perfectly manicured hand. "Please, I am not offended at all. In fact, I am 'aving a wonderful time!" 

Harry and Ron looked at each other, hardly believing what they were hearing. Fleur, Fleur Delacour, Mademoiselle patronising, haughty Delacour, was actually enjoying herself? Could two years have changed her so much? 

But then, Harry thought, she had been very generous and kind at the end of the Tournament. Ever since he had brought her sister Gabrielle up from the lake at Hogwarts, in fact. He had started to quite like her during the last few weeks of the year. 

*** 

The sun had almost disappeared by the time Mrs Weasley, Penny and Ginny had cleared away the dinner things and joined the boys and Fleur outside on the patio. A bottle or two of Mrs Weasley's home-made elderflower wine had been tapped, although Ron resolutely refused to touch it. 

"No thankyou," he said, firmly. "I'll stick to the old pumpkin juice." 

"Coward," Harry muttered, with a grin, accepting a glass. 

Ginny and Fleur were discussing something about French fashion designers with great vehemence while Mrs Weasley passed the wine round. 

"I hope you like it, Fleur," she said. "It's only my own recipe, nothing grand." 

"Minus the Weasley Special this time, hopefully," muttered Ron, bitterly. 

The evening wound leisurely on until the stars were out, and Mrs Weasley's elderflower wine was severely diminished. 

"They've bonded," Ron observed, nodding his head towards Ginny and Fleur, now in the throes of discussing what Ginny should wear to the Yule Ball next year. 

"Per'aps something gold," Fleur was saying, studying Ginny's colouring and height. "Or a dark wine red, something to bring out the auburn in your 'air. We should go shopping in London one day this summer!" 

"Oh, I'd love that! Are you sure?" 

"Of course! I would love it too! I know a little place - " 

Ron rolled his eyes. "Women," he murmured, disparagingly. "And it'll be ten times worse when Hermione gets here on Friday." 

"Don't you think it might be a bit lonely for Ginny and your mum in a house full of blokes?" suggested Harry. 

Ron shrugged. "They lived with it up until last month when Penny moved in." 

"Talking of Penny," said Harry, suddenly. "Where is she?" 

*** 

"Oh, so it's MY fault, is it?" 

"Yes, it is. What made you do it?" 

"I was just trying to be friendly!" 

"Oh yes?" 

"Not in THAT way, for goodness' sake!" 

"Well, what was it then? You'd never even SEEN her before today!" 

"I had, as a matter of fact. At Hogwarts." 

"Two years ago, Perce. You've been lusting after her all this time, have you?" 

"Don't be like that, Penny. You know it wasn't like that at all." 

"All I know is you left this morning a faithful husband and you come home this afternoon with - with - your scarlet woman!" 

"How DARE you?" 

"How dare I? Excuse me, Percy, but it's you who's stepped over the line, not me! I didn't invite a beautiful, rich, intelligent, half Veela to dinner tonight!" 

"Is that what this is all about? The fact that she's beautiful and intelligent?" 

"And rich." 

"And rich, then. Are you jealous of all that or jealous of what you think is going on with me and her?" 

"JEALOUS? Don't I have a RIGHT to expect the fidelity of my husband?" 

"I AM faithful, Penny!" 

"Oh, don't bother." 

"What are you doing?" 

"Leaving." 

"WHAT?" 

"I need to be alone. I'm going to my mother's." 

"Penny!" 

"Just forget it, Perce. I don't need this right now." 

"Well, when are you coming back?" 

"When I can be completely sure that you're the right man for me." 

"And when will that be?" 

"I don't know. Perhaps never." 


	6. Caught on the Bathroom Floor

**CHAPTER SIX**

**Caught on the Bathroom Floor**

It was mid-morning by the time Harry managed to lazily open one eye and squint in the direction of Ron's bed. A heap of messy blankets, clothes and sheets was rising and falling and making an annoyingly loud wheezing noise. Harry gingerly removed one foot from underneath his bedclothes and groped around for a shirt. Just above his head, the sound of groaning and clanking in the attic served as a sharp reminder that the previous night's dinner had not gone entirely to plan. Percy's blasphemous expletives were still ringing through his head, fresh in his memory, as was the forty-minute rampage Mrs Weasley had undertaken at eleven o'clock, pacing through the house like an irate whirlwind. Harry shivered. He hoped beyond hope that he would never have to repeat that experience ever again. If it hadn't been for the calming influence of Ginny and Mr Weasley, he felt sure the whole house would have fallen down around them all. 

Yes, Ginny. 

Harry caught up his shirt and his washbag, and instinctively groped around for his glasses. He hadn't worn them for several months now, ever since Sirius and Dumbledore had agreed that to avoid being at a disadvantage in unexpected situations, the optimum condition of health and fitness was essential. Madam Pomfrey had performed a highly complicated spell which had repaired the damage, and it had felt like being given a new pair of eyes. It was a definite improvement, Harry reflected, but old habits died hard. 

He climbed cautiously out of Ron's bedroom window onto the outside stairs. He had felt utterly useless last night, as he watched the Weasley clan fall into disarray. He and Fleur had hidden themselves in a corner of the garden while Ginny had endeavoured to revive some degree of order. He had marvelled at her ability to take control of pandemonium, comforting the distraught, calming the angry, attending to the guests. When Harry had first met little Ginny Weasley, wearing a fluffy dressing gown with her elbow in the butterdish, he had never imagined her as the mainstay and bulwark of a household; a tower built on rock. 

Since Mrs Weasley and the twins were quite obviously in the kitchen (the sounds of sharp reprimands and pitiful entreaties coming from downstairs indicated as much), Harry leapt over the bannister of the attic stairs to save walking down all the way. Regaining his balance for a second or two, he proceeded towards the bathroom, almost bumping in to somebody coming the other way. 

"Hey! Take your time, no hurry!" laughed Ginny. 

Harry stared at his toes awkwardly. "Sorry," he said, meekly. "I don't usually jump around people's houses at this time of the morning." 

She laughed again. "It's OK. Ron does it all the time, only he's considerably less graceful at it." 

While Harry was working that one out, Ginny reached for the doorknob. "Well, if you're going to stand there all day, I might as well take advantage - !" 

"Oh no you don't!" Harry lunged for the door, catching Ginny's free arm in an iron grip. The scuffle that followed was loud enough for everybody in the Burrow to hear, including Ron dead to the world on the other side of the house. 

It wasn't until the bathroom door had been flung open and the two combatants had collapsed in a heap on the carpeted floor inside that Harry realised he was still without a shirt, and their unusual proximity was - well - unusual. Ginny had obviously noticed it too, for her cheeks were touched with a delicate pink, and her eyes faltered under his gaze. But they were both laughing too much to care. 

"What the HELL is going on here?" 

Harry winced, and let go of Ginny's wrists. He got to his feet in a fluid movement, pulling Ginny up with him. 

"Um, we were just - " he began, running a hand nervously along the side of his neck. 

Ron eyed them both suspiciously. "Yes?" 

"I was - um - I mean - " Harry caught Ginny's eye, and they both dissolved into laughter again. 

"Now look, you two - " began Ron, seriously. He didn't get to finish, for Ginny gave him a hefty shove in the chest and steered the two of them out onto the landing. 

"If you boys don't mind, I'm going to get dressed," she said, with a smile. She closed the door firmly behind her, and slid the bolt across. 

Ron surveyed Harry through narrowed eyes. 

"What?" said Harry, incredulously. 

"You know something, Harry? You're absolutely rubbish at playing the innocent." 

"I haven't done anything!" 

"Yeah, well, let's keep it that way, shall we?" Ron's stiff posture loosened, and he managed a smile as he led the way downstairs. "And put a shirt on, for Merlin's sake. There's no need to make it obvious to the entire family that you're trying to seduce my sister." 

Harry was about to launch into a full scale protest, but caught the mischievous glint in Ron's eye just in time. Instead, he satisfied himself with an amicable punch on Ron's shoulder. 

*** 

The kitchen was a positive hive of activity. Mrs Weasley had filled the long pine table with pans and pots and bottles and jars, and was kneeling on the floor as Harry and Ron entered, with her head thrust into the murky depths of a cupboard. Fleur sat at the end of the table, elegantly dressed in a chiffon skirt and off-the-shoulder shirt, her silvery curls tied back from her face. One long, tanned leg was delicately laid across the other, and she dangled her sandal from her toe. 

"Good morning!" she said, brightly, flashing Harry and Ron a radiant smile. 

Harry smiled back, awkwardly. She always made him feel so untidy and plebeian. Ron ignored her completely. It was the sort of thing he did with Hermione when they weren't speaking to each other during a huge row, only Fleur didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. 

"Mum?" said Ron, in bewilderment. 

"I'm having a bit of a baking spree, dear!" came Mrs Weasley's muffled voice. "It helps me relax!" 

Harry was very glad that his hostess couldn't see the expression of fearful apprehension that crept onto his face just then, mirrored to perfection in Ron's. 

"Where's Perce?" Ron asked, reaching across all the rubble on the table for a slice of toast or two. 

Mrs Weasley crawled backwards in an awkward manoeuvre until her head popped out of the cupboard. She was frowning. 

"Work," she replied, shortly. 

"Penny left for good then?" 

"Who knows? And I don't want you mentioning it to Percy again, all right?" 

Ron shrugged nonchalantly. "All right," he said, trying to retain some degree of deportment while munching on his toast. 

"I want you on your best behaviour today, Ron. You and the twins. When I think of all the fuss last night! If it hadn't been for Ginny, I don't know what would have happened! Where _is_ that owl with the post?" 

"Mrs Weasley," said Fleur, suddenly. "I would like to apologise for being the cause of all the disturbance last night. Per'aps I should not 'ave come." 

"Nonsense, my dear," replied Mrs Weasley. "I hope you will stay for a little while, if you can bear it." 

"On the contrary, I would love it!" laughed Fleur. "If you are sure Percy will not mind after - " 

"Oh, Percy will rise to the occasion, my dear, I'll see to that. Anyway, the house will be jam-packed by next week. Hermione's coming tomorrow, isn't she, Ron? Oh dear, I'm going to have to think about meals." 

"Mum, don't stress!" said Ron. "We're OK, aren't we Harry? Three weeks of madness won't make much difference to us." 

"It's about to get even madder!" came a voice from the doorway. Ginny stood there, perusing a piece of parchment, flanked by Fred and George pulling rude faces behind her back. "Bill's coming back on Saturday! Get off, you two! He's got permission to take the next few weeks off, so he'll be able to stay until we go back to school!" She squealed in delight and flung her arms around Mrs Weasley. 

"Well, I hope he's not bringing that blasted motorbike this time!" said Mrs Weasley, dryly, a smile twitching at the edge of her lips. "Great, noisy thing." 

"It was brilliant, Mum!" protested Ginny. "He gave me a ride on it all the way to Oberon's Well and back! We'll have to do that again! Take a picnic, like last time! It would be so much fun, and Harry would love it. Fleur should come too!" 

"And what is Oberon's Well?" asked Fleur, intrigued. 

"It's a beautiful little clearing by the river," explained Ginny, excitedly. "A few miles upstream. There's a little inn up there on the top of the hill, a bit like the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. They sell the _best_ butterbeer in the world, and there's a tiny craft shop in an annexe round the back - really, really old. Fred and George like to buy stuff from there. And the views are gorgeous! We go swimming there quite often, don't we, Ron?" 

Ron nodded, distractedly. "Hermione's coming tomorrow?" 

"Yes, dear. It's Thursday today," said Mrs Weasley. 

"Damn," muttered Ron, rolling his eyes. "She's going to make me do that Snape essay, isn't she?" 

Mrs Weasley swelled, ominously. "Well, if you'd done what I suggested in the first place and finished it in the first week when it was all fresh in your mind - " 

"Oberon's Well, Mum!" interrupted Ginny, loudly. "Can we go? Please, please, please? When Bill gets back?" 

"It's a scream up there, actually," sniggered George, pinching Mrs Weasley's ribs, mischievously. "Remember last time, Mum?" 

"I would prefer to have that evening wiped from my memory forever, actually, dear," was the curt reply. 

"What did you do?" laughed Harry. 

"That would be telling," murmured Fred, with a wink. "We might try it on you this time!" 

****** 

Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed!! Every single one is very much appreciated :-D 

For those who queried about the relationship between Harry and Ginny - never fear, it's going to unfold very shortly! 

If you've got a spare moment and you're looking for a small masterpiece to read on FanFiction.net, take a look at**_ 'Family'_** by JennaMae, **_'Much Ado About Everything'_** by Moonlit Aria, both involving our favourite protagonist and his red-haired love. And also **_'Through The Looking Glass'_** by Loveday Goodchild, aka my pal Ellie, which shows a certain Potions master in an entirely new light ;-D 

All three are absolute treats, give them a go! 

Thanks again to all reviewers!! I love you all :-D 

xxx 


	7. Romanian Stuff and a Potions Essay from ...

**A/N: Obviously since 'The Order of The Phoenix' was released, several details about plot have changed, which unfortunately rather mess up my original plan. So rather than starting from scratch, I'm going to carry on. Naturally this means there will be some small inconsistencies, some obscenely large ones, like the presence of Sirius who appears in the next chapter. I've tried to edit as much as I can to tie it in with Phoenix, but some things I just can't change. Consider this a tale with an alternative twist!**

**Hope you enjoy it**!

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**Romanian Stuff and a Potions Essay from Hell**

By midday, the sun was so hot that a languid, indolent afternoon seemed inevitable. Fleur and Ginny lay on the grass in the back garden, chatting contentedly. Every now and again a burst of girlish laughter would carry in the clear air to Harry and Ron on the patio, where they had covered the long table with books and parchments. 

"It's no good, I can't concentrate!" wailed Ron, throwing down his quill in a sulk. "Why the hell did I ever carry on with this subject? Why didn't somebody stop me, Harry?" 

Harry sighed. If the truth be told, this Potions essay was the worst he had ever seen in his life, and he had witnessed Snape in some pretty horrible moods. 'Horrible', however, didn't even begin to describe the Potions master's state of mind at the end of last year. Harry cringed at the memory of the night he had spent in detention down in the dungeons. He had made the mistake of prematurely rising to the usual bait - taunts about his father, James, and snide remarks about Harry and his friends. Simply sticking up for Neville had cost him eighty points from Gryffindor and the detention. He had been assigned the exceptionally unpleasant task of ridding the dungeons of some violent and probably slightly poisonous creatures infesting the darker areas. After no less than ten hours of back-breaking toil he had arrived in the hospital wing covered in cuts and gashes oozing various kinds of horrible things. Madam Pomfrey had been beside herself with horror. 

Harry had a suspicion that the holiday Potions essay was the product of his own attempts to stand up to Snape after so long. There was only so much a man could endure in Snape's Potions class, and after six years of reasonably well-maintained self-control, Harry felt he could afford to fight back a little. 

"Looks like we'll have to wait for Hermione after all," he said, leaning back in his chair despondantly. 

"No!" protested Ron, loudly. "No, no, no. No way am I giving her the opportunity to criticise my working habits again. I'm going to do this - on my own." 

Harry struggled to keep a straight face. "OK," he nodded. "I understand." 

Ron stared at his barely started essay for a moment or two, before collapsing onto his arms. "Who am I kidding? I can't do this! I need Hermione! Where the hell is she when I need her?" 

Another bright trill of laughter came from the girls on the lawn. 

"What right have they got to be happy?" growled Ron. 

Harry laughed. "Gin's just finished her O.W.L.S. Give her a break!" 

"Yeah, and it's your birthday next week, and I don't see you getting away with not doing this damn thing!" He made a rude gesture at the parchment in front of him. 

"I've never bothered much with birthdays," said Harry. This was really only true because the Dursleys had never given his birthday a second thought. It was only with much reluctance that they ever bothered with Christmas presents for him, and they had stopped that several years ago as well. Not that Harry minded. Hermione, Sirius, Hagrid and the Weasleys made up for it ten times over. 

"Well, you ought to," Ron was telling him. "Birthdays are fun." 

"Not when you have to spend the day shut up in the attic at the Dursleys!" snorted Harry. "You're damn lucky to have yours while we're at school." 

"Well, this year you're here," pointed out Ron. "So this year you should have a riotous day to make up for all the parties you've missed!" 

"Parties?" 

"You know, like the ones Fred and George used to throw in the common room on special occasions!" 

Harry laughed as he recalled the many Quidditch celebrations they had enjoyed in the old days. "Yeah, they do know how to throw a party, I have to say!" 

Ron was getting excited now. His eyes were wide and he kept jumping up and down in his chair, gesticulating wildly with his arms. "Yes! We could have a huge one next week when Hermione and the others are here!" 

"What others?" 

"Oh, Fred and George are having Angelina, Alicia and Lee down at the weekend for a couple of days. And Bill and Charlie should be back in time for it too!" 

"Hang on a sec, Ron," protested Harry. "Won't your parents have something to say about this?" 

Ron waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, they won't mind. Dad will think it's terrific! He'll probably want to join in! And it'll give Mum a chance to feed people her stress cooking!" 

"Look, I don't want to put anyone to any trouble - " Harry began. 

"No trouble, Harry!" exclaimed Ron. "It'll be great, trust me! When Fred and George get back from the shop we'll get planning!" 

A smile crept onto Harry's face. A birthday party. A real, proper birthday party for him. He assumed his first birthday must have been a pleasant one - the only one he'd been able to spend with his parents. If only he could remember what it had been like. 

"We'll get Charlie to bring back some of that Romanian stuff," Ron was muttering, excitedly. "And we can dig out those old lanterns from the garage. Hey, Gin! Come over here a minute!" 

Ginny smiled apologetically at Fleur, and rose to her feet. She started walking across the lawn to the patio. 

"What?" 

"Need your help!" 

"With what?" 

"Party next week, for Harry's birthday." 

Harry, unconsciously following Ginny's graceful progress towards them with unusually intense interest, felt compelled to insist that it hadn't been his idea. 

"It's a great idea!" Ginny exclaimed. "Why didn't anyone think of that before? Ron, you are amazingly intelligent sometimes." 

"Only sometimes?" said Ron, gazing up at her pitifully. 

"Yeah," she said. "You're a git most of the time." 

"Thanks, Gin." Ginny nudged Ron's shoulder affectionately, and he smiled. 

"You know - I'm really not so sure this is a very good idea," Harry said, after much inward debating. "I mean, I'm not very good at parties." 

Ginny laughed. "Does that include all those mad evenings in Gryffindor Tower after your Quidditch matches? I seem to remember one last year that went on into the early hours during which you had the time of your life knocking back the butterbeer and singing along to - " 

"Yeah, OK, no need to remind me," laughed Harry, wincing. "Since I can't remember much of that night anyway, perhaps I'm best left in blissful ignorance." 

"Colin's got photos, Harry," she said, mischievously. "All I have to do is send an owl - " 

"Don't you dare!" 

"My point is that you love parties. You know you love parties, and you're going to love this one too." 

"Your parents haven't even agreed to this yet!" 

"Harry, not all families are like the Dursleys," said Ron. "The Weasleys are notorious fun-lovers, as you ought to know by now, and we adore any excuse for a party." 

Ginny giggled, suddenly. "We should owl Charlie and get him to bring some of that Romanian stuff home with him." 

"I was going to do that later," replied Ron, with an impish grin. 

"What is Romanian stuff?" asked Harry, not entirely sure if he actually wanted to know. 

"Ha-ha, you'll see," Ron answered. "Had it last summer. Woah, I can still feel the heat now!" 

"That sounds horribly illegal, Ron," said Harry, raising an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, don't tell Hermione. She'll kill us all!" 

"It's really not as bad as he's making out, Harry," said Ginny, noticing the horror-struck expression on Harry's face. "It's a Romanian drink, that's all." 

Ron sniggered. "Yeah, which just happens to be exclusively East European and should not technically be exported without a license." 

"And I take it Charlie doesn't have a license," said Harry, grinning.

"Does he heck!" was Ron's elegant reply. "But he claims to have friends in high places, so he never gets into trouble. Oh, Gin, do you know if Dad's still got that Muggle gra - gra - gram-phone thing?" 

"Gramophone, Ron. Yes, somewhere. It was in the attic, but it didn't stay there long. I'm guessing it's not in great condition." She rolled her eyes, smiling sweetly at Harry. "Did you want it for some music?" 

"No, I wanted it to dance naked on top of the roof. Yes, for music, Gin." 

"I've got a better idea," said Ginny, mysteriously, completely ignoring Ron's sarcasm. 

"What?" 

"Just give me a while, and I'll see what I can do." 

Both Ron and Harry stared at her expectantly. 

"Why does that make me feel really, really afraid?" said Ron, slowly, looking warily at Harry. 

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing." 

"The last time you said that, somebody needed drastic medical attention." 

"I was ten, Ron, and this is different." She started to walk back to Fleur, who was strolling leisurely along the avenue of trees at the bottom of the garden. "I'll sort the music, you can owl Charlie." 

The boys watched her jog across the lawn to apprise Fleur of the news, then Ron turned back to the scrawled mess on the parchment in front of him. 

"I really can't be bothered with this," he announced, screwing it up into a little ball. "We've got better things to do. Come on, Harry, and we'll find Mum!" 

*** 

Mrs Weasley was thrilled with the plan, and refused to listen to Harry's well-meaning protestations. 

"It's about time we did something for you," she told him, firmly. "When I think of all those birthdays you've missed. That family, honestly." She pursed her lips. 

Privately Harry agreed with every notion the Weasleys had about his family, but he felt it might not be wise to encourage any animosity between them. He could remember the lengths the Weasleys had to go to a couple of years back to take him to the Quidditch World Cup, and how thoroughly ashamed he had been of the Dursleys. He had no desire to repeat the experience. 

"I'm sure Fred and George will have some - ideas," Mrs Weasley said, with a tense emphasis on the word 'ideas'. No doubt she was already envisaging utter chaos. 

"Wonder what Hermione will think," muttered Harry, darkly. He was remembering Charlie's 'Romanian stuff' with slight apprehension. 

"Hermione will do as she's told for once," answered Ron, with considerable force. 

Harry looked at him in astonishment. 

"Well, I'm sick of her going on at me all the time." Ron's expression was distinctly peevish, Harry noticed. He had obviously just realised as he'd said the words that in telling Hermione what to do he would be practically signing his own death warrant. 

In a gesture of comradely good will, Harry placed a hand on Ron's shoulder and nodded compassionately. "Good luck, mate. It was nice knowing you." 


	8. The Incongruities of Malfoy's Underwear

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**The Incongruities of Malfoy's Underwear**

The next day, Harry and Ron wandered lazily downstairs for breakfast just as the twins were on their way out of the front door. 

"Are you coming back for lunch, dears?" Mrs Weasley called from the kitchen. 

"Probably," Fred replied. "Got to see a man about a contract this morning though, so we might take him somewhere to butter him up first!" He winked at Harry and Ron as they passed in the hall. 

"You behave yourselves!" said Mrs Weasley. "And don't try anything silly." 

Ron snorted. "Yeah, that'll be the day." 

"Got a problem, Ronniekins?" asked George, sweetly. 

"Yeah. I want that damned counter-curse for my bedroom door. I'm sick of having to freeze to death every time I need the loo in the night." 

"Well maybe if you're very nice to us we might be able to sort something out," said Fred, equally as sweetly. 

Ron shoved the twins aside as he came down the last few stairs. "Whatever," he muttered. "See you later." 

"Byesie bye, Ronald!" sang George, bundling Fred out of the door quickly. Their raucous laughter was still audible until two loud cracks signalled that they had Disapparated.

*** 

Half way through breakfast, during which Mr Weasley treated Harry and Ron to a detailed account of his latest run-in with the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, an enormous owl swooped grandly in through the open kitchen door, carrying a roll of parchment. It alighted on the back of Harry's chair, dropping its burden into his lap. 

"Expecting something, Harry?" Mr Weasley inquired, kindly. 

"No, actually," Harry replied. He stared at the owl. Something in its noble demeanour reminded him of Professor Dumbledore's phoenix Fawkes. The same lofty posture and impressive plumage. Even that dignified glint in its eye. 

"Well, open it then!" Ron nudged him and nodded to the parchment. 

Harry broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. The script was slightly old-fashioned, like some of the Professors' handwriting at Hogwarts. McGonagall's was very upright and bold, Snape's a fusion of elegant, italicised longhand and gothic capitals. Dumbledore himself wrote in a narrow copperplate hand with a very fine-nibbed quill. The writing on Harry's parchment belonged to no Professor, but he recognised it immediately. 

"Sirius!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "I thought he was still in Russia!" 

"He's back then?" asked Ron, through a mouthful of cereal. 

"Yes," replied Harry, reading down the scroll. He sighed. "He says they came to the end of the road out there, and it was pretty pointless staying when they could be keeping an eye out back here." 

Mrs Weasley looked anxiously at her husband. 

"He says unless they get a new lead he's going to be with Lupin for the rest of the summer," Harry continued. "And - oh - " 

"What?" prompted Ron. 

Harry lowered his voice. "He says some things about Snape. Better not read them out in front of your parents." Ron sniggered. 

"Is he all right, Harry?" asked Mrs Weasley. 

"He's fine, but he sounds pretty disillusioned." 

"Have they had no luck at all?" asked Mr Weasley, his tirade against Fudge forgotten in his interest in hearing what Sirius had to say. 

"Not really. A few dead ends. Nothing conclusive. They managed to get hold of Macnair and Avery in Moscow, he says, but they lost them on the run. They searched everywhere for this place that they're suppposed to be using as headquarters, but there wasn't a sign." 

"Damn!" exclaimed Mr Weasley, thumping his fist on the table in frustration. "So damn close!" 

"They'll keep trying, Mr Weasley, don't worry," said Harry, soberly. "Sirius won't give up. None of them will." 

Mrs Weasley sniffed and got to her feet. She had suddenly turned very white. "Well, I hope they find him soon. All of them." 

Harry watched her leave the room briskly, then he turned to Mr Weasley. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked, anxiously. 

"No, no, lad, don't worry. She's worried about Charlie and Bill, that's all. You know Dumbledore called on them to keep their eyes open on their travels, don't you? She's petrified they're going to get dragged into all this." 

"They already are dragged into this, Dad," said Ron, frowning. 

"I know, but there's no need to worry your mother more than necessary." 

Harry knotted his forehead. "What _exactly_ have they been asked to do?" 

Mr Weasley shrugged. "They've never said _exactly_. Charlie being in Romania and all, he's in a good position to watch the comings and goings of people through to Russia. And Bill travels all over Europe and North Africa, so I think Dumbledore's got him acting as some kind of undercover courier. Molly doesn't know about Bill, though, so we're trying to keep it quiet for now." 

Harry nodded slowly. He had known about Charlie and Bill's involvement for the past two years, but he hadn't realised just how dangerous their position was. Not for the first time Harry felt himself swell with pride in the knowledge that he was one of the few people at Hogwarts to know all about The Order and its movements. 

"Is that what Bill meant in his letter to Gin when he said he'd got 'time off'?" asked Ron, curiously. 

Mr Weasley nodded. "If The Order has returned to Britain then I presume they are confident that there is nothing to monitor on the continent. For the moment, anyway, the boys are relieved of their duties. I had a nasty feeling that Russia idea was a load of rubbish, but it had to be checked. You-Know-You wouldn't go that far away, when what he wants is right here - " He stopped suddenly, aware of his tactlessness. Harry returned his stare with determined fortitude. Mr Weasley seemed to understand, and leaned back in his chair with a long sigh of relief. "Maybe the lads'll be able to tell us more when they get back. In the meantime, not a word to anyone else, all right?" 

Harry and Ron nodded. They had grown used to keeping secrets over the years, starting with the Philosopher's Stone and Harry's Invisibility Cloak in their first year. It was interesting how the secrets that they kept grew more perilous and critical as time went on. In all honesty, being privy to the most vital secrets of The Order of the Phoenix was about as perilous and critical as one could get. 

"Hey, Harry, we should ask Sirius to come down for your party," said Ron, eagerly. "If he's relieved of his duties it'll be OK, won't it?" 

"Can't hurt to mention it," agreed Harry, with a grin. He had never talked of it to anyone, but he missed his godfather a great deal. The Dursleys, of course, refused to have him spoken of in the house, being still under the impression that Sirius Black was a fugitive criminal fleeing from the wrath of the law. Harry had decided it was in his own interests to keep the news of Sirius' reprieve to himself. Many a private chuckle he had enjoyed over the past year on that subject. 

*** 

During the afternoon, after the twins had returned full of mysterious, secretive mutterings and winks, Harry found himself contemplating the contents of Sirius' letter. 

The Quidditch experiment he had tried to conduct with Ron and the twins had fallen apart after half an hour. Now Fred and George were idly floating above the meadow on their broomsticks, teaching Ron how to play a game of their own invention. Harry lay on his stomach on the lawn, doodling on the parchment in front of him on which he had been trying to work out some new manoeuvres for the match against Slytherin after Christmas. 

He amused himself greatly with a little drawing of Draco Malfoy being turned upside down on his broomstick in mid-flight, revealing a very vivid and quite grotesque pair of boxer shorts to the entire school. Harry was absolutely determined to savage the Slytherin team this year, and walk away with the Quidditch Cup just as Oliver Wood had done three years ago. He relished the thought of the look on Malfoy's face as Harry raised that huge, shining cup in front of everyone at Hogwarts, his name going down in the sporting annals of the school just as his father's had done, and Charlie Weasley's. Harry Potter, Captain and Seeker of Gryffindor, the champion team! 

But always his thoughts would come back to Sirius, and his dangerous work with The Order. Although Sirius' news was always enthusiastically received, Harry was never quite satisfied. Until recently, he had been happy to carry on at Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione and Ginny, hearing the latest from Sirius and Dumbledore. Nobody could deny that Harry wasn't right at the centre of things, even from school with all his responsibilities there - but ever since he had learned of Bill and Charlie out in Europe, working side by side with The Order, Harry had entertained a small feeling of envy. Hearing about The Order's work was no longer enough for him. He wanted to be out there working with them, like Charlie and Bill. 

He hadn't told anyone else about his feelings. They were just another secret. 

"Oi, Harry!" yelled Fred, hurling the Quaffle down at him. "Get yourself up here, man." 

"It's mad, Harry," called Ron, nodding eagerly. "A nice break from defending hoops all the time!" 

"Sacrilege!" gasped Harry, in mock dismay. He grinned as he reached for his Firebolt. "How dare you talk about Quidditch in this fashion?" 

"Because I'm trying to wind up my Captain," replied Ron, with a loud laugh. "He's becoming more obsessed with Quidditch than anyone else I know, including me! In fact, on a good day he could probably give Oliver Wood a run for his money!" 

"The day I turn into Oliver Wood, tip a bucket of ice cold water over my head and take away my Firebolt," ordered Harry, in all seriousness. He tossed the Quaffle back up to Fred, and kicked off from the ground to join them in the air. "What's this game you've invented, then?" 

"Promise you won't go all Quidditch Captainy?" said Fred, with a glint in his eye. 

"What? Me? Would I?" 

"Yes," Ron replied, firmly. "We want no comments on technique, speed, rules or points, OK? But you're welcome to slag off Malfoy as much as you like." 

"Do I really do all that?" asked Harry. 

Ron nodded. "Obviously we don't mind the Malfoy bit at all. In fact, it's possibly one of the best parts of our day, coming to Quidditch practice and listening to you muttering profanities about everybody's favourite Slytherin." 

Harry grinned. "Well, I do my best," he said. 

"OK," said Fred. "Here's how we play this. Somebody goes that end, and everybody else faces him - you move, Ron - like this. Then you take the Quaffle and try to confuse the person down that end by making last minute changes to your moves - " 

"A bit like the Wronski Feint then?" Harry said, instinctively. He looked up to see the twins and Ron surveying him with solemn disapproval. 

"What?" shrugged Harry, innocently. 

"Right, make with the bucket of water, George!" yelled Fred, pointing down to the water butt. George chuckled wickedly, and lunged forward on his broom. 

"Don't you even think about it!" Harry shot after him, leaning as far forward as he could. Then a hand reached out and pulled the Firebolt out from under him just as he was gaining on George. Harry toppled off onto the grass from about four feet above the ground. George was on his feet too, dipping a bucket into the water butt. 

"Vengeance in mine!" shouted Ron, landing just behind Harry, closely followed by Fred. He pinned Harry's arms behind his back while Fred sat on his ankles. 

"Gerrof!" Harry yelled as he struggled furiously. "I was joking, you idiots!" 

George was advancing with the bucket, peering at Harry with dramatically narrowed eyes. He cackled with theatrical laughter. Harry's eyes widened in dread anticipation as the bucket drew nearer and nearer. 

"Prepare to drown, Harry!" said George, ominously. He began to tip up the bucket. 

"GEORGE! What on earth are you boys DOING?" 

Harry, Ron and the twins turned to look at the owner of the voice. They grinned sheepishly. 

Hermione was standing on the lawn a little way off beside her trunk and some odd bags, her hands planted firmly on her hips. She was viewing them with mildly disparaging good humour, her eyes twinkling with laughter. 

"Honestly! _Men_!" 


	9. Red for Passion

**CHAPTER NINE**

**Red for Passion**

George put the bucket down, meekly, steeling himself for a lecture. Hastily Ron and Fred got off Harry and dusted themselves down. Harry struggled to his feet, wondering why they had all jumped to attention like a line of soldiers in the ranks. 

"Um - we were just playing," Fred said, with an angelic smile. 

Hermione grinned widely. Only then did Harry properly notice the tall, slim posture she was holding, inclined slightly to one side at a typically feminine angle. She was regarding the four of them through her eyelashes in an unusually girlish manner. 

"Playing is one word for it," he replied, tactfully deciding not to comment. He glared at the twins and Ron. The twins merely sniggered and nudged each other. Ron hadn't heard him at all. Ron was staring at Hermione so blatantly, Harry was sure his jaw was about to hit the ground. 

"Going to offer a lady something to drink?" she said, arching an eyebrow. "Or do I have to go and find Ginny to get some intelligent conversation?" 

Harry gave Ron a pointed nudge in the chest. 

"Ow! What was that for?" 

"Snap out of it, Ronniekins," taunted Fred, prancing towards the house with George close behind. 

"Yeah, Ron, put your eyes back in, mate!" called George, winking at Hermione as he passed. Hermione merely rolled her eyes and continued smiling. 

Ron, quite possibly even more red than an over-ripe radish, made a face at the twins as they turned their backs to go indoors. 

"Gits," he muttered. 

"You all right, Hermione?" Harry decided to ask. The situation was on the verge of getting rather embarrassing. 

"Fine thankyou," she replied. She looked delighted to see Harry and Ron again. So delighted, Harry found himself being clutched in an amicable hug. "What about you?" She looked searchingly into his face as she pulled away again. 

"Absolutely fine," Harry asserted. 

"No nightmares? No scar pains?" 

Harry shrugged. "The odd one or two. But nothing to get worked up about!" he added, when Hermione's eyes widened in concern. 

"If you're sure." Hermione smiled. 

Odd, Harry thought. He would normally have expected her to take apart his every word and go off on a tangent about something. Her lectures on safety and vigilance last year had been intense enough to rival Moody's!

"OK, Herm?" Ron said, almost as a grunt. 

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Hermione sighed. "You know I hate it." 

"Sorry. Did you want that drink, then? Let's go inside." 

"Thankyou." She bent to pick up her bags, staring up in sheer amazement as Ron beat her to it. 

"I can take them," he said, with a nervous grin. 

Hermione smiled back. She shot Harry a look of amused bewilderment as Ron turned his back, mouthing silently: "What have you done to him?" 

Harry, grinning ear to ear with entertainment, shrugged. 

*** 

As the back door clicked shut behind Hermione, Harry and Ron, Ginny leapt up from the living room floor where she had been sitting, helping Mrs Weasley cut some recipes out of old copies of Witch Weekly in varying stages of age and debilitation. 

In the kitchen, the two girls ran into each other's arms in a mixture of excitement and relief. 

Harry remembered vaguely how it had felt to say goodbye to Ron and Hermione before the long, dreary, Dursley-dominated summer holidays, without ever having to worry about whether or not he would see them again. The summer had become a time full of anxious pacing around bedrooms and highly censored postal communications. Harry was lucky if he ever had an evening in which he did not hope and pray that everybody he cared about was safe. He imagined all of them felt the same way. Obviously Ginny and Hermione did, hence their affectionate reunion. They had grown very close over the past few years, ever since Ginny had been taken into their confidence. In fact, Harry found it rather difficult to remember what his days at Hogwarts with Hermione and Ron had been like without her. 

"Is everything all right?" Hermione was asking, anxiously. 

"Fine," said Ginny, nodding her head. She lowered her voice so Mrs Weasley could not hear. "Everybody is still safe and sound, thank goodness, but Mum's starting to get really worried." 

"Unsurprisingly," said Ron, grimly. "She's been in a state ever since that summer we spent in London with Sirius, remember?" 

They nodded. The incident with the boggart in Gimmauld Place was firmly etched in Harry's mind. He had seen it transform time after time into the body of each member of the Weasley clan, while Mrs Weasley had tried helplessly to fight it. 

"Have you been back?" Hermione asked, settling herself in a chair at the kitchen table in between Ginny and Harry. 

"To Grimmauld Place?" said Ginny. "No. Dad's been a few times to check things over. Somebody needs to keep an eye out back here while The Order is abroad." 

"He says it's actually livable now," said Ron, with a sardonic snort. "And there's no damned house elf there to cause chaos now." 

"What about Mrs Black's portrait?" asked Harry. He remembered the shrieking picture very vividly, and so it seemed did the others. 

"Still there," replied Ginny, sadly. "She just refuses to budge. Nothing can get her down." 

"Any other news?" Hermione persisted. "It's so annoying not being able to talk properly unless we're all at school." 

"We're only hearing scraps here and there," said Ron. "Stuff Dad picks up at work or things in the paper, but it's all horribly censored. Fudge is trying to keep Dad in the dark about everything, and Dumbledore doesn't seem particularly bothered about sorting him out, so we're just putting up with it. It's bloody annoying, though! But Harry had a letter from Sirius this morning, didn't you?" 

Harry nodded. 

Hermione sat up straight, full of avid interest. "What did he say?" 

"That The Order is back in England and he's staying with Lupin for the moment. Russia was no go apparently, and they lost the Death Eaters they found out there." 

Hermione sighed, frustratedly. "Well that was a brilliant waste of time, then, wasn't it?" 

"At least they're back now though," said Ginny, gently. "And everybody is OK." 

"What are they going to do now, then?" Hermione said, more as a statement to herself than a question. 

"Dunno till Charlie and Bill get back," replied Ron. "Which ought to be next week." 

Mrs Weasley heaved herself to her feet and came through to welcome Hermione. 

"Did you get here all right, dear?" she asked, after giving the girl a fond hug. 

"Yes, no trouble," replied Hermione. "I came by Port Key. I would have Apparated, but I thought it would be better not to risk it."

"Quite right," agreed Mrs Weasley. "No sense in making things worse than they need to be." She turned her attention to preparing the evening meal.

"Oh, and we've got Fleur Delacour staying with us," said Ginny, in a low voice. 

Hermione looked astonished. "Fleur Delacour? From the Triwizard Tournament? I didn't know anyone was in contact with her." 

"She works with Percy at the Ministry," Ginny explained. "He brought her back for dinner and she's staying for a while." 

"Penny, however, is not," muttered Ron. Mrs Weasley turned around swiftly and clipped him round the ear. 

"What did I tell you yesterday, Ron?" 

"Ow, Mum!" Harry watched Ron's ears turn the customary bright pink. 

"Where's Penny then?" asked Hermione, bemusedly. 

Ginny explained while they sat around the kitchen table drinking coffee and enjoying Mrs Weasley's cream buns. 

"Oh dear," said Hermione, with a sigh, when Ginny had finished the tale of the disastrous dinner a few nights before. "Is she coming back?" 

"Dunno," said Ron, shrugging. "But Perce is in a right strop, so nothing new there." 

"He hasn't spoken a word to anyone since she left," added Ginny, regretfully. "He's really upset about it." 

Ron snorted. "Dunno why you're so bothered, Gin, after how upset he made Mum and Dad not so very long ago." 

"RON! I thought we'd settled all that," said Mrs Weasley, furiously. "He admitted he was wrong and he's made his apologies and as far as your father and I are concerned, that's the end of the whole affair." 

"Yeah, well, it's not the end of it as far as I'm concerned, Mum," answered Ron, raising his voice to match Mrs Weasley's. 

"Calm down, Ron," said Ginny, firmly. 

Ron ignored her, and getting to his feet, he rounded on his mother again. "So it's fine for him to put you and Dad through absolute hell for a year and then come snivelling back at the end of it saying he had been misled and mistaken and all that rubbish and you treat him as though nothing had happened?" 

"RON! Don't answer back!" said Mrs Weasley, glaring at him. 

"I'm not answering back, I'm telling the truth. A fine right he's got waltzing back here pretending everything's always been all right, and then setting the place in uproar again because he can't take care of his own wife!" 

"I DON'T REMEMBER YOU BEING SO SYMPATHETIC AT THE TIME!" shrieked Mrs Weasley, positively shaking with fury. "It's none of your BUSINESS how Percy conducts his relationship with his wife!" 

"It's my bloody business when he's constantly tearing this family apart!" yelled Ron, shaking just as much as his mother. 

"We're not torn apart! Look at us! We're sitting round the table drinking COFFEE!" 

"It's the principle of the DAMN THING!" Ron looked about to explode. He turned on his heels and stalked out into the garden, slaming the door behind him with all his might. 

The little kitchen shook. 

**** 

Thankyou again to everybody who has reviewed!! You're all stars :-D 

xxx 


	10. Through the Eyes of a Boy

**Hello, everyone! Sorry about the long wait since my last update. All problems with my computer are sorted now, and I can get back to writing! Hooray!!**

**CHAPTER TEN**

**Through The Eyes of a Boy**

Harry and Hermione watched anxiously as Ginny rose to comfort Mrs Weasley, who was still trembling. 

"He didn't mean it, Mum," Ginny was saying, calmly. "He's just angry, that's all." 

"I know he is, dear," replied Mrs Weasley, managing a weak smile. There were tears in her eyes. "But he's right, you know. We never used to argue in the family before." 

"Everyone's under pressure," Ginny said, handing Mrs Weasley a tissue. "Maybe when Bill and Charlie get back things will start to look better." 

Mrs Weasley blew her nose noisily, and nodded. "Yes. Of course, you're quite right. Oh dear, what a state to get into." She returned to preparing things for dinner, with the occasional sniff betraying her frought state every now and again. 

"Perhaps someone should go after Ron," Harry began, thinking of all the terrible things Ron could be doing at that moment to vent his anger. He was half way out of his chair when Hermione stopped him. 

"No, I'll go," she said, firmly. 

Harry frowned. Somehow he didn't think it was very wise for Ron to have Hermione lecturing at him in his present fury. 

"I know how to handle him, Harry, don't worry." She moved briskly across the kitchen and out of the back door. 

"Try the treehouse at the bottom of the meadow!" Ginny called after her. Hermione nodded, and set off in that direction through the yard. 

"He always goes there when he wants to think," said Ginny, quietly. She didn't look at Harry, but lifted her coffee mug up to her lips. 

Harry watched her for a moment, while Mrs Weasley crashed about with pots and pans beside the Aga at the other end of the kitchen. Her hair, loose over her shoulders, shone in the sunlight that streamed through the window, and a few strands fell across her cheek. Harry felt himself seized by an inexplicable desire to brush them away. 

In fact, he felt very strange now he thought about it. It wasn't a totally unfamiliar sensation, if the truth be told, but surprisingly strong. He was resisting the impulse to just reach out to Ginny and pull her close to him. However, common sense prevailed, and instead he leaned across and laid his hand on one of her wrists. 

_Please look up,_ he thought to himself. If only she would look at him - 

Slowly she raised her head as if in answer to his thoughts. A pair of brown eyes, fathoms deep, gazed back at him. They were sparkling like stars. 

Harry's chest constricted. 

_My God, she's beautiful,_ he found himself thinking. _I could look at her forever._

Then he shook himself mentally. _She's your best friend's sister, Potter. What the hell are you thinking? Snap out of it, man!_ Scarily, it wasn't the first time he had discovered himself thinking that, and it didn't do much to comfort him at all. He also realised that he hadn't breathed for an astonishingly large amount of time. 

"Thanks, Harry," Ginny whispered, smiling gratefully at him. 

Harry felt his stomach do a back flip. 

"It'll be OK, Gin," he said, in a voice that was ever so slightly tremulous. He hoped Ginny hadn't picked it up. 

She nodded, and slipped her hand inside his. Her eyes flickered down to the table, and so did Harry's. He watched her fingers gently entwine in his - her long, elegant fingers with those perfect nails. Before he knew what he was doing, his other hand reached out and pulled both of hers closer to him on the table. 

_Don't look up at her, don't look up,_ he said to himself, willing his cheeks not to blush. Just the silky smoothness of her skin was making his fingers tingle. 

Just then, the door was flung open, and in came Fred and George, rubbing their hands together gleefully. 

"What's for dinner, Mum?" asked Fred, eagerly. 

Instantly Harry and Ginny drew back their hands, but not before the twins had stared suspiciously at them for a second or two. 

"Roast beef, with all the trimmings," Mrs Weasley replied, promptly. "And you can lay the table if you like, boys. Ginny, will you go and tell your father to come in and wash his hands, please? He's trying to work out what's wrong with the car." 

Ginny nodded, and disappeared out of the door without another look at Harry. 

_Damn. Now you've gone and blown it, Potter. Well done. Now she's going to think you're a sentimental, clinging little drip. _Harry could have kicked himself senseless. 

*** 

Hermione waded through the knee-high grass on the meadow towards a long line of trees at the bottom, separating the Weasley land from the common. Several yards away, the river ran softly through the valley, twisting and turning on its long journey down from the hills behind the village. One tree stood out taller and larger than all the others in the line - an ancient oak with gnarled branches and sparse leaves. About ten feet up from the ground was the treehouse that Mr Weasley had built many years ago for the boys and Ginny to play in as children. 

Hermione peered up through the branches as she neared it, looking for any sign of Ron. She almost jumped out of her skin as a pebble hurtled out of the leaves somewhere higher up, landing with a violent splash in the river a little way off. 

Ron was standing on the platform beside a small pile of stones, throwing them one by one across the stretch of grass between the trees and the river as hard as he could. His back was to Hermione as she climbed deftly up using the footholes in the trunk. He must have heard her footsteps on the wooden floor, as he stopped throwing the stones, but he didn't turn round to face her. 

Hermione stood watching his back for a moment or two in silence, neither of them saying a word. 

"Ron?" she said at last. He span round swiftly. 

"Oh. I thought it was Harry coming up," he said, in genuine surprise. 

Hermione shook her head. "He was going to, but I came instead." 

Ron looked sulky again, and stared out across the valley. "Don't give me a lecture, Hermione. I came down here to get away from that." 

"I'm not going to lecture you, Ron," she replied, patiently. "I just wanted to see if you were OK." 

"Well I am, thankyou," he snapped. 

"No you're not. This isn't you. You don't often get angry like that, Ron. Only when you're really upset about something." She was remembering the Triwizard Tournament, when Ron had refused to speak to Harry for weeks over some ridiculous argument, and her fight with Ron in the Gryffindor common room after the Yule Ball of the same year, and all the other times she and Ron had wound each other up and nearly ripped each other's throats out. 

"I should have thought that was blatantly obvious!" he yelled, turning round so fast Hermione almost cried out in shock. He kicked the side of the treehouse in frustration. 

"Stop it, Ron. That won't help." 

"It makes me feel better!" said Ron, through gritted teeth. He was plainly trying to prevent himself from shouting. 

"It doesn't change anything. Percy's still back home and your parents have forgiven him. Is that such a bad thing?" 

"I thought you said you weren't going to lecture me?" 

"Sorry." 

Ron stared at her in amazement. "What did you say?" 

"I said I'm sorry," Hermione replied, looking straight back at him. "But what are you trying to prove with all this?" She gestured randomly with her arm. 

"I'm sick of all this fighting," he said, bitterly. "And don't tell me I'm not helping matters. I know I'm not, and I don't need you to tell me." 

Hermione raised her chin slightly, staring defiantly back. Then she turned and slid easily down to the ground without another word, leaving Ron incredulously opening and closing his mouth. A tiny feeling of guilt crept into him, somewhere around his stomach. He ran a hand tensely through his red hair, and violently kicked the wall again with an angry shout. 

"Damn!" 

Why the hell did he always do this? Just for once in his life, Ron wished he could just hold a civilised conversation with Hermione without putting his foot in it or provoking her to get angry with him. 

But she hadn't got angry with him. 

Ron stopped furiously pacing and stared at the wall, deep in thought. That was the first time she hadn't answered him back. The first time they hadn't ended up rowing over a classic situation. 

_What the hell is going on here?_

*** 

That evening, Ron and Harry sat together on the patio steps, neither of them speaking. The only sounds, apart from the wind, were the barely audible creak of the swing lounger as Ginny and Hermione sat there in quiet conversation, and Mrs Weasley's voice coming from the open kitchen window. 

"It's not too much to ask, is it, that you get somebody in to mend that car, Arthur?" 

"I can do it, Molly, I really can. Just give me another day or two and I'll have it right as rain." 

The back door swung open and Mr and Mrs Weasley came out onto the patio, both carrying trays of hot chocolate. 

"Fred, George, come and get your chocolate! And you too, Fleur, dear!" called Mrs Weasley. 

The twins scampered over from the lawn where they had been showing Fleur some of their smaller fireworks. They practically leapt over Harry and Ron on the steps. 

"Mind out, boys, or we'll tip hot choccie over you!" said Fred, poking Ron in the back as he clambered over him. Ron ignored him completely. So did Harry. 

As Fleur glided up to the patio, they slid sideways politely to make a path for her. 

"Thankyou," she said, brightly. 

"It's only a car, Arthur," Mrs Weasley was saying, frustratedly. "We hardly need it to fly and turn invisible, do we? Just a plain, simple, Muggle-esque vehicle for emergencies, that's all." 

"I just thought I'd personalise it a little," replied Mr Weasley. 

"Hm. Surely you remember all the trouble that thing caused at Hogwarts?" 

"I put that down to incompetent driving rather than flawed technology, Molly." 

Harry glanced sideways at Ron to see how he would take this. Knowing Ron as well as he did, anything could make him fly off the handle after an outburst like that afternoon's had been. Ron, however, remained staring sulkily out across the garden. 

The stars were shimmering above them brightly. Harry leaned his head back slightly to get a better view. Somehow the skies seemed much more attractive and awe-inspiring when viewed from the garden of the Burrow and not from the Astronomy Tower during a lesson. There was something infinitely more pure and untainted about the stars when one didn't have to plot a painstaking graph or leaf through textbooks every five minutes. 

The breeze blew coolly against Harry's face as he stared upwards. He felt unusually calm at that precise moment. At least, until Ginny's laugh rang out clearly in the night air like a beautiful piece of phoenix song. 

She was just behind him, sitting on the swing lounger with Hermione. He could hear her. But her face was in front of him in the skies. The stars were her eyes, perpetual and limitless. He could almost feel her right up close to him, her warmth on his skin. That gentle, velvety voice sending shivers through him like nothing else could. 

Ron coughed beside him suddenly, and Harry jumped. _What the hell just happened here?_ he thought, glancing frantically at Ron's face to judge his expression, as if all his musings had just been played out in front of everybody there. Ron, having cleared his throat, carried on staring across the garden. 

Harry's heart was beating a tattoo inside his chest. Cautiously he turned his head a little, and looked over at the swing lounger. Hermione was lying on her side, her head in Ginny's lap, staring out across the garden just as Ron was. Ginny, her legs curled over the edge of the lounger, was playing absently with her hair. 

Harry's stomach flipped over again, and he turned away hastily, his eyes wide open in astonishment. _Ron's sister. She's Ron's little sister!_

_This is insane!_


	11. Bacon and Egg, the Food of Love

**CHAPTER ELEVEN__**

**__Bacon and Egg - the Food of Love**__

__

__Harry counted twelve chimes, so quiet he could barely hear them. A breeze was blowing in from the partially open window, Harry could feel it cooling his face delightfully. It was always hard to get to sleep on a hot, sticky night like this as a rule, not to mention with Ron's incessant snoring in the background all night long. Tonight, however, Ron was quiet as he slept, and it was not the humid atmosphere that caused Harry to lie awake staring up at the ceiling. 

A pretty red-haired girl with dark, chocolate brown eyes kept homing in and out of his mind, laughing as she had all evening. Harry shut his eyes. 

_Stop thinking about her. Anything else, think about anything else, not her. Just go to sleep._

But he couldn't. Tossing and turning in his bed was making him even hotter, and he was sure Ron would wake up any moment if he carried on fidgeting. 

_Ron's little sister,_ he kept saying, over and over again. _Ginny Weasley is Ron's little sister. She sent me a singing Valentine. She put her elbow in the butterdish. She used to really like me. Wonder if she still does. Oh, stop it, Potter. _

It hardly seemed five minutes before a single chime told Harry it was one o'clock in the morning, and he was still far from sleep. He sighed frustratedly. 

_Look, just get up and go and get a glass of water,_ he told himself. _Walk round the garden a few times. Anything!_

__Harry sat up cautiously, and peered over at Ron. He had clearly stropped himself out all afternoon, and was oblivious to everything. 

The air was deliciously cool as Harry slowly raised the window to its full length and climbed out onto the stairs. His bare feet were practically sighing with relief as they sank into the dewy grass at the bottom. It suddenly occurred to him that all the doors would be locked for the night, and since he had left his wand up in Ron's room, he wasn't going to be able to get into the kitchen. 

"Damn me and my tiny mind," he muttered, thrusting his hands into his pyjama pockets. 

He wandered around the dark house to the little terrace at the back, lit up by the curious white flowers Mr Weasley grew up a lattice wall, which appeared to reflect the moonlight. He'd never noticed them properly until now. There were some at Hogwarts as well, he remembered, growing up the outside of Gryffindor Tower. 

_Yes, this is good. You're not thinking about Ginny._

_Ginny. Oh, damn. _

__He had stopped next to the swing lounger. 

Only, somebody was already sitting on it. 

Somebody with dark red hair and the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Ginny was curled up in the far corner of the lounger in her pyjamas, an open book on her lap. 

"Couldn't you sleep?" she asked. She had obviously heard him coming before he had seen her. 

_Form words, Potter. Speak words, don't stand here like an idiot._

__"Too hot," he answered, stupidly.__

__"Me too," she replied, with a sweet smile. She patted the space beside her. "Pull up a cushion." 

Harry forced himself to relax, leaning back against the soft padding of the lounger. If only he couldn't smell Ginny's musky perfume - 

"Do you usually do this?" he asked, curiously. "Sit out alone out here in the middle of the night, I mean." 

Ginny nodded. "Sometimes. It makes more sense than lying awake in bed getting hot and bothered. Besides, Hermione is a very noisy sleeper when she's tense." 

"Hermione's tense?" repeated Harry in surprise. 

"Mm. She won't say why, but it's got Ron's name written all over it." 

"You reckon he said something to her in the treehouse?" 

"Possibly. She often gets like this when they're in the middle of a fight." 

Harry sighed. Sometimes he wished there wasn't so much animosity between his two best friends. He had to admit, though, occasionally it was just amusing, like the enormous row they'd had several Christmasses ago over Viktor Krum and the Yule Ball. However, walking in on Hermione crying her eyes out in a corner of the common room last year had not been a pleasant experience. Only Ron could make her cry like that. 

"Everything will be all right, won't it, Harry?" 

Harry looked sideways at Ginny. She was looking back at him sincerely, her eyes wide. She wasn't afraid, but something in her eyes mirrored a feeling he had often had himself ever since that fateful night after the Third Task. Not fear, not despondancy. More like a fervid desperation to _do something_. _Anything_, in fact, to make things all right again. He knew, without either of them saying anything, exactly what she meant. 

"Course it will," he replied, firmly. "The Order will see to that." 

"Do you remember what the Sorting Hat said the year before last?" Ginny asked, staring absently into the skies. "About us all making a united front against - _him_." 

"I remember." 

"It's what he wants, isn't it? For us all to argue amongst ourselves. It makes his life a lot easier." 

Harry watched her silently for a second or two, until she turned her head to look back. 

"You said it yourself earlier," he said, softly. "We're all under pressure. The Order is much better prepared since Fudge joined forces with it. That's a step in the right direction, Gin." 

Ginny smiled suddenly, making something close to Harry's stomach flip over. He fidgeted uncomfortably, trying not to let his aching desire to pull her into his arms get the better of his reasoning. 

"You know," she said, her velvety voice making Harry's breathing become rather difficult. "When _you_ say it, I believe it." 

Her eyes were shining. How could he ever have missed the beauty in them before? He knew he must have been staring at her like a star-struck idiot, but he couldn't stop himself. 

Before he knew what had happened, Ginny was leaning against his chest, her head on his shoulder. His arms were wrapped around her body, holding her tightly to him. Her silky hair tickled his neck delightfully, and he ran his fingers through the strands that cascaded over her shoulders and back like a blanket. 

_Bloody hell, Potter!_

He let out a long sigh. 

The sweet fragrance that was unique to Ginny was so intoxicating that his brain felt fuzzy, incapable of any logical thought. He leaned back against the cushions contentedly, with Ginny curled up beside him, still wrapped in his arms. The breeze was so cool. He felt - just - perfect - 

*** 

Harry woke up very slowly, only half aware of where he was. The typical noises to be heard in the countryside at dawn were rising and falling in volume - the peaceful clucking of chickens, birdsong, trees creaking in the wind. Harry didn't want to open his eyes. He was so comfortable he could stay where he was all day. 

A movement beside him stirred his bleary mind into action. Ginny's warm body was still nestled in the crook of his arm, one of her arms around his waist. 

_Calm, stay calm,_ he told himself, urgently. _No need to panic. Stay perfectly still._

Ginny stretched her limbs out, slowly opening her eyes. 

Why did that have to feel so good? Harry knotted his forehead. _Ron's little sister. Ginny Weasley - Ron's little sister._

"Harry!" she said, in a much steadier and less surprised tone of voice than Harry's would have been if he had got the breath to say anything with. "Is it time to get up?" 

Harry smiled. "Did you sleep OK?" 

"Mm," she said, dreamily, rubbing her temple gently. She looked directly at him, pushing some strands of hair behind her ear. "Thanks for staying with me." 

What the heck could he say to that? 

A loud thump from one of the upstairs floors and the subsequent exclamation of horror discharged Harry from having to organise his thoughts into a rational order. 

"Fred! I thought I asked you NOT to do that again!" 

Nobody but Mrs Weasley could bellow in a voice like that. 

"It wasn't me, Mum!" 

"George!" 

"Hey, don't blame me either!" 

"What's the matter, Molly?" 

"Things lying all over the stairs again. Somebody will have a nasty accident one day, if you boys don't clear up after yourselves!" 

"Why is it always us, Mum? It could just as easily be Ginny!" 

Mrs Weasley snorted. "Don't go accusing your sister, now. She's much better behaved than you two are!" 

"Hm. Does that include staying out all night with strange men?" 

Harry's head shot up. He stared at Ginny, whose hand was over her lips in astonishment. 

"WHAT?" 

"Just kidding, Mum." 

A resounding slap echoed around the little terrace as Mrs Weasley's palm connected sharply with part of Fred, (or was it George?). Ginny giggled. 

Mrs Weasley's footsteps could be heard all the way down to the ground floor hall. The kitchen door clicked open, and at once the sounds of clinking china and rattling cutlery were audible. 

"Ginny?" Fred's head popped out of a window two floors up. "Gin, what the heck are you doing down there? And more to the point, what are you doing down there with her, Harry?" 

Harry could have sworn Fred was smirking. 

"We weren't doing anything," Harry said, defensively. Were _all_ Ginny's brothers going to accuse him of trying to seduce their little sister? 

"You haven't been there all night by any chance, have you?" continued Fred, his eyebrows raised. 

"We were talking," Ginny said, with a sigh. "It was late. We were tired. We fell asleep. And thanks for telling Mum, by the way!" She glared at him. 

Fred poked his tongue out at her, waywardly. He didn't appear convinced, but he said no more. He withdrew his head, but not before giving Harry a very dubious wink. 

"Sorry, Harry," said Ginny, earnestly. "They're all idiots." 

Harry grinned. The sight of her standing in front of him with loose strands of messy hair framing her face, giving him that magical smile, was enough to warm every inch of his body. 

"How about some breakfast before the rest of your family decides to kill me?" he asked, mischievously. 

"Hm. Wise plan," she replied, just as impishly. "What do you fancy for your last meal, Harry? Bacon and eggs? Toast?" 

Only then did Harry realise how hungry he was. He placed a hand over his stomach, peevishly. "How about a bit of everything?" 

Ginny laughed, and playfully shoved him sideways as they wandered towards the kitchen door. 

Harry grinned as he opened the door for her. There were certain advantages about this gentlemanly behaviour thing. At least he had an excuse to lean close to her in stretching round for the door handle. 

"Somebody's got some manners round here," she said, teasingly. "The twins and Ron are usually total gits!" 

Her face was literally centimetres away from his. He cursed himself inwardly as the heat rose to his cheeks. 

"Ah! There you are!" The door was fully open, and Mrs Weasley beckoned them both in. Harry wasn't sure whether he felt relieved or resentful. 

Ginny sat down in her usual place and helped herself to several slices of toast. She looked up at Harry. 

"Sit down, then," she said, pointing to the chair in front of her. 

Harry shook himself. He'd been staring at her again. Merlin, what an idiot! 

_Think about something else. Anything else. Quidditch. Hogwarts. Your birthday -_

__A loud crash made him jump as the heavy pewter teapot was placed in the centre of the table. Mrs Weasley faced him squarely, beaming amicably.__

"Bacon or eggs, Harry?" 


	12. The Black Rider and the Flaming Siren

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

**The Black Rider and the Flaming Siren**

"Harry, he's driving me CRAZY!" 

Harry sighed, willing himself to stay calm. Hermione in ranting mode never failed to try his patience. 

"Why doesn't he just grow up, for goodness' sake? He's acting like a stroppy little boy!" 

"Hermione, I should have thought you would have realised by now after knowing the bloke inside out for six years - Ron hates to be told he's wrong." 

Ginny nodded in agreement. "He's always been like that, 'Mione. He's a stubborn git at the best of times." 

The three of them were sitting on the lawn in the shade of a leafy beech. Or rather, Hermione and Harry were lying sprawled out on the grass while Ginny perched on a rustic swing seat close beside them. 

"Git's the word," Hermione muttered, bitterly. "All this fuss for nothing!" 

"What did you say to him in the treehouse?" asked Harry, bravely. 

"I told him his attitude wasn't helping anything." Harry winced, and looked up at Ginny, whose brow was furrowed in a grimace. "I know! I know!" exclaimed Hermione, desperately. "I tried, honestly I did. But he was being so objectionable!" 

"That's what Ron does best," said Ginny. "You just mustn't let him get to you. If he wants to shout and yell and throw things, let him. Once he's got it out of his system, he'll be fine again." 

Hermione sighed, the sense in Ginny's words obviously apparent to her. "Well, let's hope you're right," she said, dubiously. 

A loud buzzing noise increasing in volume drew their attention to the yard at the front of the house. Ginny hopped off the swing and ran a few steps forward to get a better view. 

"That - that's a motorbike!" she squealed, delightedly. "BILL!" 

Sure enough, an enormous black object shot across the yard like a moving blur, lifting the dust into a choking cloud. A figure clad in billowing black robes vaulted agilely onto the ground. He removed his cowl to reveal a sleek ponytail of lustrous red hair. His arms opened as Ginny sped up the garden steps and flung herself into them, shrieking with elation. 

"I thought you weren't coming till tomorrow!" she cried, her voice muffled in Bill's robes. 

"Well, we got back yesterday, and I was bored out of my mind so I decided to make a quick trip to London and come straight here afterwards!" 

"I've missed you so much!" 

"Bet I've missed you more, kid." Bill's handsome features creased into a wide grin as she released him, and he kissed her smartly on the cheek. "You've grown," he said, teasingly. 

"I'm not a child any more, Bill," Ginny replied, accepting his arm around her shoulders as they wandered slowly towards the house. "You don't have to say that every time you come home, you know." 

Bill laughed, his eyes shining with mischief. "You _have_ grown, though, Gin. You're gorgeous!" 

Ginny smiled, and nudged him, happily. 

"I bet you've got a man in your life now, haven't you?" Bill continued, playfully. "Or several, perhaps." 

Ginny feigned shock. "What sort of a girl do you think I am, Bill Weasley?" 

"Like I said - gorgeous. Who is he? Will I approve?" 

Ginny nudged him again, with a lyrical laugh. "I wouldn't tell you even if there was someone!" 

Bill viewed her suspiciously. "Hm. That means there is - " 

"Oh, shut up!" 

The front door clicked shut behind them, and their bright laughter carried all the way down to Harry and Hermione on the lawn. 

*** 

Harry sat in silence while Hermione sighed and fidgeted on the grass, lost in her own thoughts. The whole reunion had left him with a dull ache inside, and all at once the incomprehensible delight at watching Ginny swing backwards and forwards on that little swing, her hair flying out behind her in a glossy mist of red, had completely disappeared. 

"Do you think I'm really bad at handling him, Harry?" 

"Hm?" said Harry, absently. 

"Ron. Do you think I wind him up even more when he's angry?" 

_Are you jealous?_ a little voice inside Harry's head suggested, suddenly. Harry's forehead creased in a frown. 

_No. Bill's her brother. They've always been really close._

_Jealous, I reckon._

_Well you're wrong. I'm not jealous. _

__"Harry? Are you all right?" 

"Hm? Sorry, Hermione." Harry took a deep breath to clear his head. 

Hermione was looking at him earnestly, right into his eyes. A tiny smile flickered at the edge of her mouth, but she said nothing. 

"I'm just - tired, I suppose." 

A gentle arm draped through his. "Then let's go and get something to drink," said Hermione, softly. "That is, unless the twins and co. haven't devoured the entire kitchen already!" 

Harry managed a small laugh as they made their way across the garden towards the kitchen, Hermione chattering away about his birthday party next week. All the plans were laid, and all that was required now was Charlie and his infamous 'Romanian stuff'. Slowly, Harry's spirits started to rise again as thoughts of Ginny were replaced by the exciting prospect of the week ahead. 

"Tell me, 'Mione," he said, as they came up to the kitchen door. "Is there any chance that you could give me the best birthday present ever?" 

"And what would that be?" asked Hermione, suspiciously. 

"You and Ron talking to each other again." 

She let out a long and tremulous sigh, frowning slightly at him. Harry could almost see the clash of wills going on inside her mind. 

"All right," she said at last. "I'll see what I can do. But it takes two, you know!" 

"Just try, that's all I ask." 

The kitchen was charged with energy and animation as the door swung open, and Hermione replied in a low voice as they entered: "Oh, I'll try all right. But you might not get it until your sixty-fifth birthday, at the rate we're going at the moment." 

Harry feared she was right as Ron scowled more furiously than ever as Hermione sat down at the table opposite him. She, however, ignored him completely, and proceeded to load up her plate with steaming buttered crumpets and scones. 

Mrs Weasley was crashing around as usual with plates and saucepans, flicking her wand all over the place to try and keep order. Her face glowed scarlet with activity, and her hair was flying out at all angles, giving her the semblance of an overly-industrious house elf, minus the bat-like ears, of course. 

"Help yourselves, everyone!" she was calling, as she frantically worked her way around the perimeter of the little kitchen, replenishing dishes and plates. 

The twins were sitting at one of the far ends of the table, cackling loudly with Lee and the girls. For five people to make so much noise was nothing short of a marvel. 

Angelina, Alicia and Lee had practically broken the door down one evening during a heavy summer rainstorm, and had taken up a large proportion of the kitchen table at mealtimes ever since. The twins were ten times worse now their old Gryffindor group was all together again, and shrieks of laughter and other peculiar noises were becoming more pronounced and frequent as the days went on. 

"Oi! Harry!" Ron was beckoning him over to a recently vacated seat beside him. His subsequent glare at Hermione indicated that he was claiming Harry for his own for the duration of the afternoon. 

Harry squeezed into the tiny space between Ron and Angelina, kicking several shins as he maneuvered his long legs over the bench and under the table. 

"This is Bedlam!" Hermione remarked, her voice raised over the din. 

"It's brilliant!" Harry replied, with a grin. After the confines of the attic at Number Four, Privet Drive, Bedlam was positively heavenly. 

Instinctively his eyes roamed around the room for Ginny's slender figure. At the other end of the table, a striking toss of long red hair and a mellifluous trill of laughter drew his attention. Bill and Ginny sat opposite each other, deep in conversation, their heads inclined together slightly. Every now and again, Ginny would reach out and brush away a tiresome tendril of Bill's hair which kept escaping the tie that held his ponytail. 

Something hard connected painfully with Harry's ankle underneath the table. He cried out in surprise. Opposite him, Hermione was watching him markedly. 

"Pass the jam, Harry?" she asked, rather too sweetly to be completely natural. 

He obliged, slightly shaken. Truthfully, Hermione was a subtle observer, perceiving things that everyone else was blind to. But how long would it be before the Weasley brothers noticed him staring longingly at their beautiful sister? 

Ginny's musical laugh floated down to him again, and she brushed back her rippling sheet of flaming hair. What would Harry have given to be able to touch it again, like he had that night they'd spent out on the swing lounger? There was something blissfully perfect in her every move, in every syllable she uttered. 

Harry was disgusted by his own sentimentality. He snorted audibly, making Ron stare at him in surprise. 

"You all right?" he asked. 

Harry nodded. "Fine." The thought of what Ron would do to him if he knew the reasons why Harry wasn't fine at all were truly horrifying. But he was sure to find out sooner or later. Unless of course this entire situation was just a phase. 

_Yes, just a phase, maybe, _Harry mused, comforted slightly. _I'll wake up one day soon and realise this has all been a figment of my imagination._

__The back door suddenly burst open loudly, and Mr Weasley made a grand entrance. 

"Afternoon, everybody!" he called, cheerfully, gazing round the kitchen. 

"Come on in Arthur," said Mrs Weasley, as the strains of 'Afternoon Dad!' and 'Afternoon Mr Weasley!' faded away. 

Mr Weasley beamed as he accepted a large mug of tea and a plate of muffins, oblivious to Mrs Weasley's state of nervous exhaustion. 

"Good day at the Ministry, dear?" she asked, breathlessly. 

"Not so bad. Perce had a nasty encounter with Dolores Umbridge at lunchtime, but we soon sorted her out, didn't we, son?" Percy, who had followed his father into the kitchen with Fleur close behind him, snorted disparagingly. 

"Stupid old bat," he muttered, angrily. "Ought to be sacked, in my opinion." 

Harry nudged Ron emphatically before he could open his mouth and start shouting again. Ron glared at him, but subsided with a sulky frown. 

"Will you stay and have some tea, Percy?" asked Mrs Weasley. 

"No thankyou," was the blunt reply. Percy stared disapprovingly at the chaos around the table. "I think I'll just take a cup of coffee up to my room and finish my paperwork." 

Harry noticed Fleur sidling bewilderedly around the wall towards Mrs Weasley. As she passed behind Ginny, she stopped dead, her face breaking into a bewitching smile. Bill grinned back, his eyes twinkling. Fleur tossed her silvery hair over her shoulder flirtatiously, and continued on her journey around the table to help Mrs Weasley. Harry watched Bill following her every step with ardent interest. 

Ginny caught Harry's eye at that moment. She was wearing a satisfied smile, and nodded her head towards Bill. Harry grinned. About thirty seconds later he realised that he was probably being as obvious as Bill, staring so conspicuously at Ginny in front of a tableful of people. He felt himself reddening. Really - this was becoming unbearable. 

"Fred, George! Be quiet a minute, please, boys!" called Mr Weasley. "Your mother wants to say something." 

Mrs Weasley took a deep breath. "I thought, as it's been such a beautiful week, we could all go up to Oberon's Well tomorrow, as Ginny suggested. How about a picnic?" 

The little room erupted into acquiescent exclamations, punctuated by small squeals of delight from Ginny. 

"All right, all right, calm down!" laughed Mr Weasley. "You've all got to promise to behave yourselves. Especially you two." He peered sternly over the rim of his spectacles at the twins, who immediately assumed facial expressions of the utmost probity. Nobody was fooled. "I mean it, boys. Any monkey-business and the pair of you will be mucking out the pigs for a fortnight, without wands!" 

Everyone in the room noticably shuddered, particularly the Weasley boys. Presumably this threat was neither a new one nor a previously untried or tested punishment. 

"Charlie will miss it!" sighed Ginny. "He's not due back till the day after tomorrow." 

"Harry's party will more than make up for that, dear, I'm sure," replied Mrs Weasley. absently. She tripped over the back legs of Ron's chair which were raised off the floor, and clutched at the dresser to break her fall. "For goodness SAKE, will you PLEASE stop doing that, Ron! If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times!" Suddenly her affable mood was broken and she glowered at her son. 

"Sorry, Mum," said Ron, meekly. He caught Hermione's eye for the briefest of moments, and glowered in typical Ron style. Hermione cheerfully completed the routine by glowering back just as fiercely. Harry sighed. Never ones to bear a grudge, his two best friends. Ginny had noticed too. She shrugged slightly, dropping her eyes to her plate. 

"Come on, lads, lets help your mother," suggested Mr Weasley, noting the abrupt alteration in the atmosphere with the experienced eye of a father and husband. He gestured with his arms to clear the kitchen and move outside into the sunshine. 

The little room was filled with the sound of wood scraping on stone and breathy mutterings as the Weasleys and their guests ambled leisurely through the back door like children in a classroom, leaving Mr and Mrs Weasley to themselves. 

Harry sauntered out with Ron, just behind Fred and George. As usual, their eyes were lit up with impish michief. Fred turned slightly as they emerged onto the patio, smiling merrily. 

"This house bears a striking resemblance to a military training camp, have you noticed?" 


	13. Harry the Psychoanalyst

Hey guys! Hope you're enjoying it! We've got some serious action coming soon, so don't go away!!! ;-) 

Incidentally, BasilM - I LOVE your fic '24hrs in the Life of Harry Potter'. Anyone who hasn't read it, go check it out!

Keep reviewing! I love to know what you think! And special thanks to all the regulars! {That's you too, Ellie ;-) heehee!} xxx

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

**Harry the Psychoanalyst**

The usual battle for the bathroom had developed into a full-scale war in recent days. An unnerving household at the best of times, The Burrow was fast becoming something of a lunatic asylum, especially in the early mornings and at night, so that evening Harry moved hastily up the outside stairs from Ron's room and through the attic with a heavy feeling of foreboding. The bathroom was half way between Ginny's bedroom at the back of the house, and the twins' at the front, and since Harry and Ron were at a distinct disadvantage owing to the inoperative bedroom door, they were unfailingly the last to reach the scrum in the hall. 

Harry's walk was brisk. He entertained the vague hope that his deliberate tardiness may have won him the use of the shower without constant hammering on the door and rounds of violent verbal abuse. 

By the time he reached the top of the stairs after wrestling his way past the grouchy ghoul, who had berated Harry sharply for disturbing him, the sound of raised voices in the hall below reached his ears. 

"Oh, for goodness' sake! You're being totally unreasonable!" 

"I'm just sick to the back teeth of people trying to talk to me all the time!" 

"Oh, well, excuse me for being concerned about you!" 

"It's all very well to be concerned, Hermione, but you know every tiny little way to wind me up so badly I feel worse than before you started!" 

"Grow up, Ron, and stop feeling so damned sorry for yourself!" 

"I'm NOT feeling sorry for myself, I'm just pissed off with you nagging me incessantly!" 

"If you'd take a look from my point of view maybe you'd realise that what I'm saying is only common sense!" 

"Like hell it is! You don't give a DAMN how I feel, really! You accuse ME of being selfish! Take a look at yourself for once in your life, and stop giving me a hard time!" 

If mortification and horror could take physical form, Harry saw it in Hermione's face just then. He was several feet away from them on the attic stairs, and the hall was only dimly lit by the light emanating from cracks in various doors along the landing, but the watery shine that arose in Hermione's eyes was plainly obvious to him, if not to Ron. 

"Fine," she said, tremulously. "If that's how you want it." She turned on her heel and stalked past the stairs towards the bedroom she was sharing with Ginny. In a low voice tinged with bitterness, she muttered - "Happy birthday, Harry," as she walked by, her head held high. Ginny's bedroom door swung shut leaving Ron and Harry alone on the landing. 

Ron let out a long, shuddering breath as the tension in his body subsided. He glanced up at Harry. It was a look that plainly said 'don't say anything'. Harry descended the stairs slowly, and faced Ron squarely. 

"I know, I know," muttered Ron in a harsh whisper. "Ssh. Come in here." He took Harry by the arm and steered him into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind them. Harry sat down on the edge of the bath, dropping his towel and washbag onto the carpet. 

"Don't you start as well," said Ron, blandly. There was no trace of malice or anger in his voice now, which encouraged Harry to reply frankly. He knew from experience that trying to reason with Ron in one of his tempestuous moods was effectively suicide. 

"She means well. She's just a tad unsubtle at times." 

Ron snorted, and began pacing up and down the bathroom. "Yeah, you could put it that way." 

"You're not much better," said Harry, more forcefully. "You wind her up just as much." 

Ron stared, his eyes flashing angrily. "I didn't think you'd take her side over mine!" 

"I'm not taking her side!" objected Harry, rather too loudly. Hastily he lowered his voice. "I know she pisses you off and I know she handles things badly sometimes." 

"Why do I get the feeling you're about to say 'but'?" 

Harry bit back a heated retort, and took a deep breath. "But despite all that, she does care. Why do you think she came down to the treehouse the other day? I was ready to go but she stopped me. She wanted to talk to you." 

"Yeah, and a fine mess we made of that." 

Harry sighed. At least it was 'we' now, and not all Hermione's fault. "Can you sort this one out?" 

Ron shrugged, his face creased in an infuriated glare. "If she'd just stop acting like a bossy cow I wouldn't get mad at her!" 

"Say that a bit louder, Ron, I don't think she heard you from Ginny's room!" snapped Harry, rapidly losing patience. 

"I don't care if she does!" retorted Ron, bitterly. "I just bloody well wish I could say it to her face!" 

Harry's taut posture relaxed. He might be many things, but he wasn't blind. Neither was he stupid, so his initial response died a swift death on the tip of his tongue. 

"Can you at least try not to kill each other before we even get back to school?" he suggested instead. However, it seemed that Ron was only half listening to him. He had resumed his pacing, muttering all the while. 

"Am I not allowed to have bad days? Am I not allowed to be bothered by a problem? Why the hell does she have to always turn it around so everything is about her and not me?" 

A loud bang on the door made them both jump, followed by an irritated voice. 

"Ron? Is that you in there?" It sounded suspiciously like Bill. "Get a bloody move on, man. I'm dying out here!" 

Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned his back on the door, looking mutinous. 

"It's me, Bill," Harry called, seeing that Ron was not going to co-operate. "I'm getting in the shower!" 

Bill's muffled and violent expletive raised a slight smile at the corner of Ron's mouth. Harry wondered what Mrs Weasley would do to him if she knew he had such a colourful vocabulary. The thought was quite entertaining, actually. 

Harry's eyebrows rose faintly. Such unusually hostile feelings towards the eldest Weasley were rather troubling. 

_Jealous. I told you so._

_Shut the hell up._

It took a few seconds for Harry to realise he had spoken the last phrase aloud. 

"What?" snapped Ron, scowling. 

"Nothing." Harry was starting to feel uncomfortably self-conscious whenever thoughts of Ginny intruded into his mind while one or more of her brothers was in the vicinity. He shifted awkwardly on the side of the bath. 

"Seriously, Harry, I can't stand this!" hissed Bill from outside. "Just give me two seconds, OK?" 

"Great, now what are we going to do?" muttered Ron, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Harry shrugged. Nothing was ever simple in this house, he reflected, not even trying to hold a civilised conversation in the bathroom at one o'clock in the morning. Deciding that he'd better get it over with, he rose fluidly to his feet and opened the door to Bill. 

"Bloody hell!" was Bill's astonished exclamation. "What, you need help to hold the soap, Harry?" 

"Shut up, Bill," growled Ron, threateningly. "We were talking, and we didn't want to be overheard." 

"Yeah, yeah, OK," Bill muttered, absently, thrusting his way past them towards the wall. "Go talk in your room." 

*** 

Ron's sleep that night was far from peaceful. It was almost dawn before Harry was able to shut his ears to the infuriating rustle of Ron's quilt, and his breathy sighs and grunts as he tossed and turned. Harry was willing to bet that Ginny was having just as hard a time falling asleep as he was, since Hermione was bound to have yelled and complained about Ron well into the small hours. 

_Oh, dear God - Ginny. _

From that point on, sleep was impossible. 

*** 

"It's not that I don't care. Of course I'm worried about him!" 

Hermione was perched on a low rock just above the surface of the river, her cropped trousers pushed up above her knees so she could run her toes through the water. It was a shady patch not too far from the table which Mrs Weasley had conjured to hold the day's supplies of food, drink and other odds and ends. 

Already the twins and entourage were splashing in the water, shrieking and yelling like children. From somewhere Fred had acquired a Muggle water pistol, which he had subsequently enchanted to refill itself without manual aid, and to squirt constantly at anyone who came within an eight foot radius of it. 

Mr Weasley reclined in a large armchair which had sprung from the end of his wand. His head was tilted back, his ankles were crossed, his hands folded neatly in his lap on top of the scrunched newspaper, and he was snoring heavily. 

Harry sighed as he leaned back, supporting his weight on his elbows. Hermione had been ominously quiet all the way upstream from The Burrow, and Harry had paid dearly for his casual enquiry of - "Are you OK, 'Mione?" - by being treated to a tirade of disjointed mutterings concerning the ineptitude of Ron. 

He let her chatter on ceaselessly, knowing the entire spiel inside out from years of experience. Instead, he allowed his eyes to wander over the scene before him, from the twins and their friends in the water to Bill and Fleur strolling leisurely along the riverbank on the opposite side. He smiled slightly, and was then swiftly consumed by a cascade of discontent. Bill had known Fleur for approximately nineteen hours, and already they were flirting casually, observed by the rest of the family with mild satisfaction and amusement. 

As for himself - 

If anything, Ginny was further away from him than she had ever been, and they had been good friends for several years now. Maybe that's why, Harry mused, mournfully. He had only himself to blame, really. _Typical, Potter. To fall for a girl just as soon as she stops liking you._

"Harry, are you even listening?" 

Hermione was viewing him sternly from a sitting position. 

"Yes, I am," he lied, defensively. "And I know Ron's not exactly your favourite person right now, but can you please try and sort this out without fighting even more?" 

Hermione made a noise that was both wrathful and despondent. "I told you before. It takes two to make peace." 

Harry snorted unsympathetically. "It also takes two to make war." He changed tack as Hermione's face softened in surprise and dejection. "As far as I can see, this began when he got angry about Percy. Then he got even more angry because you interrupted him while he was angry. So now you're angry with him for not being grateful for your sympathy and concern, and he's still angry because he knows he screwed up and he's too damned proud to admit it." Harry ran out of breath and inhaled deeply. He was quite impressed with himself. 

So, apparently, was Hermione. "Gosh, Harry," she said, disconcertedly. "I thought I was the one with all the psychological know-how!" 

"It's common sense," shrugged Harry, fighting back a grin. "And it's also true." 

Hermione sighed, visibly mellowed. "Guess it's up to me, then." She stared at the rock for a moment, fiddling with the head of a weed that was growing in a crack. 

"I reckon so," replied Harry. "If he's going to act the prat, you've got to be mature enough for both of you." 

Hermione raised her head and smiled mischievously. "When did you start playing the counsellor?" Harry stared back at her, bemusedly. 

Harry shrugged. He had just imagined what Ginny would say faced with a similar situation. As a matter of fact, he had found it curiously easy to guess her responses. 

_Oh, God_. Again, the sensation of having his insides squeezed by an iron ring made him blink. 

Instinctively his eyes shifted to where Ginny and Ron stood in the ankle-deep water, deep in conversation. Ginny's lips were parted in a smile, and she was obviously trying to cheer Ron up somehow. Judging by the look on his face, she was succeeding in taking his mind off Hermione for a short while. 

Harry heard a barely audible sigh next to him. He didn't need to turn his head to know that Hermione was gazing wistfully in the same direction as him. 


	14. At Oberon's Well

**I am *so* chuffed with all your reviews!!!!! Thankyou sooooo much for all the fab things you say. I'm really pleased you're enjoying the story! YAY! :-D**

**I'm actually thinking of changing the title at some point, because the plot has got carried away and left me behind, and it wants to continue when Harry and the gang go back to Hogwarts, when the title 'At Home With The Weasleys' won't apply any more. **

**If I decide to change the title (which won't be for a while yet), I'll add another Author's Note in a later chapter just to let everyone know.**

**Right - now we're getting down to business. Hope you enjoy!!**

**xxx**

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**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

******At Oberon's Well**

****

Mrs Weasley had excelled herself. By the time two o'clock came round, the table had been cleared and the grass was strewn with replete bodies lounging idly in the sun. 

"This is utter bliss," observed Angelina, rearranging herself so the back of her head was leaning against Fred's stomach. 

"We should do this more often, Mum," said Fred, twirling a strand of Angelina's hair casually round his finger. He shot his mother a cheeky glance. 

Mrs Weasley smiled fondly. 

Fred peered over to a shady patch of lawn a few yards away, where Percy sat on a hard-backed chair with his nose in a book. "OK, Perce?" he called. 

Percy raised his head and frowned. "Not really, no. If I must be dragged away from my desk at such an important time, I might at least have been allowed to bring some paperwork to do so as not to waste too much valuable time." 

"Oh, get a life, Perce!" called Bill, impatiently. "Why don't you come over here with us?" 

"No thankyou," replied Percy, stiffly. He fidgeted in the chair. "I had the foresight to bring a book along, so I shall sit quietly and finish it." 

The company exchanged amused looks, and proceeded to ignore Percy for the rest of the afternoon. 

"I'm getting back in the water," announced George, rubbing the back of his neck. "This sun's too hot." He sprang to his feet, poking Fred and Lee as he passed them. Before too long, all five of them were lying in the shallow water, letting the tiny waves wash over their hot bodies. 

Ginny grinned mischievously. She nudged Hermione, who was lying on her stomach munching some grapes, engrossed in a supplement of the Daily Prophet. An unspoken exchange passed between the two girls, and they slowly raised themselves to a standing position. 

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, suspiciously. 

"Ssh!" hissed Ginny, nodding towards the twins and their friends. "Watch." 

Afterwards, Harry reflected that she had meant him to watch the subsequent events. However, the sight of Ginny whipping her shirt over her head to reveal a pink bikini and a warm tan temporarily distracted him - __

__All coherent thoughts were instantly wiped from his mind. For several seconds he simply stared, wide-eyed, oblivious to everything else going on around him, until he remembered that he was not only lying next to Ginny's brother, but he was, in fact, surrounded by her entire family. Reality hit him sharply, and he forced himself to tear his eyes away from Ginny's slender form creeping across the grass towards Fred and George. Leaning his forehead against his wrists, he perceived within the dim confines of his hunched shoulders and arms a sudden heat that was rushing through his skin as his heartbeat quickened. Trying to shut out the sounds of yelling and shrieking coming from the water's edge, he thanked the stars that he was lying on his front. 

__This was not good. 

"Oi, Harry." 

_No, definitely not good at all._

Ron's foot connected with Harry's lower leg. 

"Wake up, mate. I'm going into the water. Move your arse!" 

He didn't wait for a reply, but charged across the grass alongside Bill, to join the noisy throng splashing madly in the river. 

Harry chanced to raise his head. The twins and Lee were being forcibly constrained and repeatedly pushed under the surface by the girls. Their frenzied flailing was sending water in every direction, adding more shrieks and shouts to the boisterous uproar. 

A long, thin cloud temporarily glided across the sun, shading the world below. Harry was about to sit up and remove his top layers when a surging stab of pain lanced across his forehead, intensifying to a peak and then ebbing slowly away. He blinked back the water in his eyes, and shook his head experimentally. It had only lasted for a split second, but the agony had been unusually acute. 

Ever since the culmination of his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry had been having special training from Professor Dumbledore himself in a specific form of Occlumency, following the unsuccessful attempts with Snape which had ultimately done more harm than good. The selective areas of the art which Dumbledore had singled out for Harry to study were particularly advanced and not commonly concentrated on - however, under the Headmaster's patient tutelage, Harry had succeeded in ridding himself of the nightmares and, for the most part, the frequent pains in his scar. 

Only occasionally did his carefully built-up barriers break. 

Harry sat quietly for a moment or two, a frown creasing his face, wondering which of Voldemort's pestilent followers was in disfavour with his master at that particular moment. He hoped to God that Sirius and The Order were aware that danger was still a very real threat and were on the alert, even if the search in Europe had provided no evidence. But he knew perfectly well that The Order was a competent force with swelled ranks since the Ministry of Magic had accepted it as a worthy counter-army to the ever-increasing servitude under Voldemort. 

With all the fervour and determination of an impetuous young man, Harry ached to be back at school in contact with Dumbledore and Sirius, so as to know precisely what was going on in the outside world. The Burrow was infinitely preferable to Privet Drive at any time, but Harry knew that Mr Weasley and Percy were being deliberately kept in the dark at the Ministry for the duration of the summer holidays, to prevent labelling the family as a threat to Voldemort. It was frustrating, and not only for Harry, but at least it was keeping the Weasleys and their friends safe. 

God alone knew what would happen once the Hogwarts term started. 

It was well known that Cornelius Fudge intended to resign his position as Minister of Magic as soon as a satisfactory replacement could be found. Mr Weasley denied it, of course, but Harry knew with an inner wisdom that if anyone would take Fudge's place, it would be him. 

The thought was alarming, to say the least. Already there was a price on the heads of Bill and Charlie for being so closely involved with The Order, and it was common knowledge that Harry was an intimate friend of the family. Another significant figure, Minister of Magic, no less, would increase the danger tenfold, and the entire family knew it. 

Until that moment, Harry had been living in a blissful state of suspended animation since his arrival at The Burrow. Only Sirius' letter had reminded him of the urgent situation outside his comfortable, protected world, and he had been too involved with enjoying himself to pay particularly close attention to it for long. It had been a peaceful few weeks, Harry reflected. Re-united with his favourite family, his old Quidditch team, and his two best friends. And Ginny. 

_Ginny!_

__Harry's throat constricted painfully. He could have kicked himself for not realising it earlier! Any hope he had ever entertained of becoming closer to Ginny was impossible now. With two brothers practically Order members and a father on the verge of being promoted to Minister of Magic, it was the last thing in the world she needed to be linked to Harry Potter, number one on Voldemort's 'most wanted' list. 

Harry knew what it was like to feel threatened. Every day of his life since his eleventh birthday he had been hunted, like an animal, more so than ever since Voldemort's so-called resurrection. Skulking in Dumbledore's shadow had kept him safe so far, but that was no longer what he was prepared to do, and Dumbledore knew it. The Headmaster had been waiting for the moment when Harry would break away from his protection, determined to fight for himself. It had been inevitable. 

Running and hiding had been Sirius' only option of staying alive for many years, and Harry was adamant that he would neither run nor hide any longer. The prophecy had been clear. To kill or be killed. After the satanic sights he had seen during his sixth year, the screams of terror and agony he had heard from the mouths of innocent people being tortured and murdered, it would not only be a execution of duty to kill the instigators of such hideous acts of slaughter, it would be a pleasure to rip them into shreds. 

As for Ginny - he could no more put a label on her back than he could join the Dark Side. 

She was running towards him now, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders, every inch the flaming siren. 

"Come in, Harry!" she said, collapsing beside him on Ron's towel. "It's lovely and cool." 

Harry managed a weak smile. Thank the stars she couldn't see the torment raging inside him. 

"Are you all right?" she asked, looking searchingly into his eyes with concern. 

"I'm OK," he lied, willing himself not to get lost in those wide pools of brown that gazed back at him. 

Ginny wasn't convinced. She raised herself slowly onto her knees and lifted a hand. She gently brushed a strand of hair from his forehead with her fingers, lingering for a moment on his scar. Her eyes were glittering fervidly. 

"It's your scar, isn't it?" 

_How the hell could she know that?_

Harry nodded. "Just for a moment, nothing serious," he said, more breezily than he felt. 

Ginny was still surveying his eyes, as though she was trying to see beyond the shining green into the very depths of his mind. She smiled, and nodded her head understandingly. 

"Come down to the water," she said, softly, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. 

Her touch was enough to make his heart race and his spirits lift, however deep he was in despair. The thought made his insides feel warm. 

Ginny made him strong. 

*** 

The hot afternoon soon became a cool twilight, the water abandoned for the bracing warmth of the fire Mr Weasley had conjured on the grass. Bikinis and shorts had been discarded for jumpers and trousers again, for the evening wind was crisp despite the lingering heat of the day. 

Arranged around the fireside was a circle of cushions upon which the revellers were reclining peacefully, chatting quietly and watching the orange flames flicker. Harry was lying between Hermione and Ginny, his head propped up by his arms crossed behind him. He noted with amusement how Ginny had arranged their seating order so Ron was forcibly placed beside Hermione in the vague hope that they might agree to talk and sort out their problems. Harry approved of the gesture sincerely, and he was enjoying the frequent glances that flashed between himself and Ginny, relaying unspoken thoughts. Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione were not co-operating with the sneaky strategy, and were engaged in an argument that was being conducted entirely in very short sentences and low tones loaded with acerbity. 

On the other side of the flames, Mrs Weasley had fallen asleep on Mr Weasley's shoulder, evidently worn out by the fatigues of the day. She was therefore oblivious to the activities of her eldest son a little way away from her, and the alluring young woman he was cradling in his arms. _Just as well,_ thought Harry, with a smile. 

Mrs Weasley was not the only one who appeared to be asleep. Angelina's eyes were shut, Harry could see, but the tiny flickers of movement in her cheeks whenever Fred's caressing fingers brushed her head belied her state of consciousness. 

Alicia, Lee and George were in the throes of discussing Weasleys Wizard Wheezes with avid interest, while Percy was treating Mr Weasley to a tediously detailed account of proceedings in his department at the Ministry. Harry spent a few moments watching them all with fondness, until Ginny's head fell onto his arm. 

"Cold, Gin?" he asked, in a low voice. 

She murmured an affirmative, gazing into the flames raptly. Hardly daring to believe his luck, Harry circled her shoulders with an arm, drawing her close to share his warmth. He felt her sigh against his stomach contentedly, reminding him of the night they had spent on the swing lounger on the patio at The Burrow. Harry couldn't suppress a smile of triumph as Ginny settled snugly against him. 

He supposed heaven ought to feel something like this. 

*** 

Since the walk back to the house was all downhill, those of the company who were able to Apparate neglected to use this handy shortcut. The stars were shimmering overhead now, and it was with a maternal satisfaction that Mrs Weasley viewed her children and their friends wandering leisurely hand in hand or arm in arm down the little path. 

With the exception of Ron and Hermione, everyone moved with the unhurried, relaxed grace of people tired from exertion and content to the soul. If anything, their argument was growing more and more heated as the group progressed. 

"This is a fine way to behave towards a guest, Ron." 

"We row like this at school and you never seem to mind." 

"Why does that happen?" 

"What?" 

"Why do we always end up fighting?" 

"Evidently you fail to learn from your mistakes." At this Harry couldn't help but wince. He felt Ginny stiffen beside him too while they waited to hear Hermione's retort. 

"_I_ fail to learn? What about _your_ mistakes?" 

"Quit with the nagging, Hermione. I really can't stand it." 

"Then stop acting like a pig-headed adolescent!" 

"In case you hadn't realised, eighteen is adolescent." 

Hermione's voice dropped to an intense murmur. "Ron, none of us can afford to be adolescent in times like these, you know that. We're in this business hard and fast, and if we're going to support Harry we need to be mature and sensible." 

"Fine, I'll be mature and sensible when faced with death. I'm not only Harry's friend, I'm also a teenage bloke, and I need time-out occasionally, you know." 

"Ron! Time-out isn't an option any more!" 

"Like hell you mean that! You were getting all excited with Gin yesterday about Harry's party next week!" 

Hermione made a noise, followed by a long silence. Obviously she couldn't find a come-back quick enough. 

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" Ron continued, wrathfully. "How does it feel to lose an argument, Hermione? Never happened before, has it? It'll do you good to learn you're not an infallible oracle, perhaps then you'll stop acting like a bossy cow!" 

Harry drew his breath in sharply. He'd said it! He'd said it to her face! Never in a million years did he think he'd do it. Waiting for Hermione's reaction, Harry failed to notice that Ginny had stopped dead in shock in front of him. 

"Sorry," he whispered. 

"It's OK." 

They listened intently. Harry heard what sounded suspiciously like a sob, and then something bumped his shoulder and ran past him down the lane into the darkness. 

Ginny let out a long breath and turned to Ron. 

"That was uncalled for, Ron." 

Ron didn't reply. Harry had never seen such a deadened, horrified expression in his best friend's face ever before, and neither, it appeared, had Ginny. For a moment Ron just stared into space, oblivious to the rest of the family passing them on the side of the path. 

Once Mrs Weasley was far enough ahead, he let out a hoarse expletive, shutting his eyes tightly as though to block out the sight of Hermione's face when he had said those words. 

Rather than appearing scandalised at his language, Ginny stepped forward calmly and took her brother firmly by the arm. 

"Talk to her," she said, staunchly. "Tonight. Don't take no for an answer." 

Ginny's steady, soothing eyes had an effect on Ron too, Harry noticed. An acquiescent nod was enough. 

In silence the three of them walked briskly to catch up with the others at the turn in the road that led towards the Weasley meadow, Ginny's arms draped through both Harry's and Ron's. 

"It's chilly in the evenings now, isn't it, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley was saying. 

"Hm. Autumn's on it's way. How long are you staying for, Bill?" 

Bill took a moment to divert his attention from Fleur to his father, if slightly grudgingly. "Until the Hogwart's term starts, at least. Hopefully longer." 

"Excellent!" said George, brightly. "You can come and give us an appraisal on Weasleys Wizard Wheezes!" 

Bill laughed. "I'm not that stupid, George. I wouldn't touch anything you put in front of me!" 

They had turned the corner now, and the Burrow homed into view at the top of the meadow, sillhouetted in the moonlight. It was a truly beautiful sight. Contentment flooded Harry like warm liquid, intensified by the sweet smile Ginny gave him as he turned to look at her. For once in his life he felt completely at peace. 

That is, until a single, piercing scream tore the night apart. 

"Christ! That's Hermione!" gasped Ron, breaking free of Ginny's hold and racing across the meadow towards the house. 

Panic lanced through Harry, echoed beside him in Ginny's frantic eyes. Heedless of Mr Weasley's shouts they tore after Ron, dreading what they were about to find - 

*** 

Ron leapt over the fence at the edge of the meadow effortlessly, and sped across the yard and around to the patio. __

__Instinct told him where she was. 

_God, let her be all right!_

He found her standing in the kitchen doorway, her back to him, shaking from head to foot in terror. Her wand lay at her feet where she had dropped it. 

"'Mione!" he cried, gripping her arm to force her around. At his touch she turned and crumpled into his arms, clinging to him in shock and desperation. She sobbed wildly into his chest, clutching his shirt in her fingers frenziedly, pressing her body against his for reassurance and support. He tightened his hold, murmuring soothing words into her ear as he rocked her gently, letting his own body absorb the shattering tremours that passed through hers. 

Ron felt Harry and Ginny come to a halt behind him, breathing fast. 

Over the top of Hermione's head he stared into the gloom of the dark kitchen. Something was stretched out motionless on the stone floor. Something which was undoubtedly human. 

Harry muttered a spell and raised his wand to light the scene. 

A pile of black lay at the foot of the table, a brown hand stretched out across it as though it had been clawing its way wildly towards help. A mop of untidy hair fell over the figure's face. Short hair that emerged from a pool of dark blood seeping slowly across the stones. 

Red hair. 


	15. The Trouble with Charlie

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**Charlie**

****

Harry's carefully trained, swift reflexes allowed him to grab hold of Ginny's shoulders before she could tear blindly into the kitchen. He pulled her back, pinning her firmly to his side with a strong arm. 

"Wait!" he hissed, stopping her instinctive struggles with a commanding shake. Ginny stared up at him in disbelief. 

"It's my brother, Harry!" she protested, glaring at him vehemently. Behind the fevered desperation in her eyes, flashing fire, Harry could see traces of fear and a plea for compassion. This was a man's situation, and his turn to be strong. 

"I know!" he replied, forcefully. "But how the hell do you suppose he got in this state? It could be dangerous. Trust me, Gin." 

Ginny yielded to his sudden firmness, and remained still while Harry cautiously crept into the dark room. Hermione's sobs were dying out, and Harry listened intently for any sound of movement in the little house. He skirted the walls silently, his wand gripped in his hand like a revolver, watching the door into the hall. As he forced it open, bracing himself for what he might find behind it, Bill skidded to a stop beside him. 

"You take this floor, Harry," he murmured, quickly. "I'll go upstairs." 

Harry nodded, pressing his back to the wall. Bill disappeared swiftly, stepping over the broken shards of a glass vase on the carpet. 

The whole house was pitch black, and deadly silent. Every door Harry flung open revealed an empty room. It wasn't until he returned to the hallway, satisfied that no-one was lurking in the shadows, that he noticed more streaks of crimson blood across the floor and on the doorframes, a hideous reminder of what was lying in the kitchen at that very moment. 

A few moments later Bill reappeared. 

"Nothing," he said, grimly. "They've gone, whoever they were." 

"I don't think anyone was in the house," muttered Harry, glancing at the bloodstained walls with distaste. "Look. He must have staggered through the front door and crawled as far as the kitchen before he collapsed." 

"Dear God, what the hell are they trying to do to this world?" Bill's voice was low and husky, his eyes flashing brilliantly as Ginny's had done. His fist slammed violently into the wall with an irascible shout. "DAMN them! Damn them to hell!" 

He turned on his heels and dashed back into the kitchen, Harry hot on his trail. 

"Anyone there, boys?" came Mr Weasley's voice from the darkness. 

"No. They've gone," answered Bill, brushing past his father to head outside to double-check. 

Mr Weasley murmured a spell, and a dozen candles burst into light all around the room, revealing the true horror of the scene. 

The twins and Lee gripped Alicia and Angelina forcibly by the arms, steering them quickly outside so they did not have to see. They did not return. 

"Is he - is he dead?" whispered Hermione, tearfully. She didn't raise her head from Ron's shoulder. 

"I don't know," he answered, gravely 

"Get her out of here, Ron," said Mr Weasley, laying a sympathetic hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Take her upstairs." 

In a single, fluid movement, Ron lifted her into his arms, carrying her past the macabre sight on the floor and up the stairs in the hall. 

Mrs Weasley fell to her knees with Ginny beside Charlie's body, turning him on his back. 

"Oh, my God!" breathed Mrs Weasley, her hands flying to her throat in shock at the sight of his stained face, white as a sheet beneath the dark smears of blood. 

"Molly, get up at once!" ordered Mr Weasley, pulling her roughly to her feet. "Percy, take her into the lounge now!" 

Percy did as he was bidden, holding his weeping mother firmly by the shoulders while Fleur leant her support on Mrs Weasley's other side. 

Harry dropped down beside Ginny, who was anxiously feeling Charlie's neck for a pulse. 

"Is he alive?" he whispered, hoarsely. He didn't want to know the answer. 

"Yes. I can feel a beat. It's faint, but it's there. Help me get his cloak off." 

A simple severing charm broke the bonds. Harry flung the cloak aside while Ginny tore open Charlie's shirt to find the source of the seeping blood. 

A long, deep gash across his shoulder had hit an artery. Harry drew his breath in sharply, amazed at Ginny's methodical calmness as she ordered warm water and a towel to be procured. It took several anxious minutes for the flow of blood to be stemmed, after which Ginny took up her wand and deftly repaired the damage bit by bit. It seemed like an eternity to Harry as the tiny threads wove in and out, but it couldn't have been longer than half an hour. Ginny leaned back at last, brushing the back of her hand across her damp forehead. 

In the meantime, Mr Weasley's vanishing spell had removed all traces of the crimson pool that had trickled across the floor. 

"Will he be all right?" Bill asked, closing the back door behind him as he re-entered. 

Ginny nodded. "He's lost a lot of blood. He needs rest. We should get him to bed." 

Bill and Mr Weasley conjured an invisible platform beneath Charlie which raised him several feet into the air. Carefully they moved him out towards the hall and the stairs. Harry closed the door behind them. 

He turned to Ginny. She had raised herself awkwardly to her feet and was gazing back at him with exhausted eyes. 

Harry was just in time to catch her as she collapsed. 

*** 

He heard her whisper his name. Automatically he tightened his hold on her, gathering her close to him to reassure her. 

"It's OK, Gin. It's all over." 

She let out a long sigh, running her fingertips along his collarbone. 

Trying to ignore the shivers her gesture created beneath his skin, Harry shifted her weight slightly to view her face. 

"Come on, sit down." 

A kitchen chair was already pulled out, and he lowered her into it carefully, kneeling beside her on the floor. Her head fell into the groove between his neck and shoulder. 

"Are you all right?" He felt stupid asking it, but he knew Ginny well enough to expect a denial of any frailty. 

He felt her nod against his shoulder. 

"What you just did, Gin - it was amazing!" he said, softly. That was, in fact, one enormous understatement, but his heart was still beating so fast after all the emotions that had torn through his system during the past hour that little logical thought was possible. 

She smiled. 

"Where did you learn to do that?" 

"I didn't, really," she replied. "I've always been able to treat minor injuries and things, even before I started at Hogwarts. I suppose instinct just took over." 

A shudder rippled through her body, and Harry did not pursue the subject. It wasn't the right moment for talk. 

Gently, so she wouldn't be startled, he did what he had been longing to do ever since she had fallen against him, and pressed a kiss on her forehead, conveying so much more than words ever could. At the touch of his lips on her skin she seemed to melt into his arms again. 

"I'm glad you're here, Harry," she whispered, her fingers reaching up to his shoulders. "I always feel safe with you." 

The irony of her words was vaguely amusing as well as subtly painful. Harry doubted that anyone in the world could ever put her in more danger than he could. 

The door opened again, and Mr Weasley returned, dropping wearily into the chair opposite Ginny's. He didn't look at them. 

"Your mother's calming down a bit," he said, dully. "What do you say to a small dose of something to knock her out for the night?" 

Ginny raised her head from Harry's shoulder. "As long as it's very small, I don't see a problem." She sighed, slowly disengaging herself from Harry's arms. "I'll make her some tea. In fact, I'll make a pot. I think we could all use something hot." 

She got to her feet, smiling gratefully at Harry. 

Harry raised himself into the chair she had vacated, dropping his head into his hands. Suddenly he felt achingly tired, and every single muscle in his body was stiff and painful. Mr Weasley let out a long breath, and then got to his feet and opened the back door. 

"Fred, George? You there, boys?" 

An affirmative response echoed from the bottom of the lawn where they had taken the girls. 

"Come in, please!" called Mr Weasley. "I want you where I can see you, just in case." 

Harry barely noticed them all file in, shooting a dozen questions at Mr Weasley in vociferous voices. 

"Is he OK, Dad?" 

"What happened?" 

"Were they in the house?" 

"What did they want with Charlie?" 

Mr Weasley called for silence heatedly. "Ssh, all of you! Do you want to upset your mother even more? Yes, Charlie will be all right, but we won't know what happened until he's fit enough to tell us, so I suggest you all keep your questions for a more appropriate time." He glared at the twins, whose belligerent responses were cut short by Ginny's timely intervention. 

She slammed the heavy pewter teapot on the table, along with a selection of mugs, frowning at her brothers. 

"One cup each," Mr Weasley said, "and then bed for all of you." 

Evidently the sense of their father's words had an effect on the twins, and they bit back the objections they so clearly wanted to express. 

"We won't sleep, you know," muttered George, sullenly. "Not if there's an army of ruthless killers on the loose." 

Mr Weasley did not have the strength to rebuke him, so Ginny obliged with a furious stab of her fingers in George's chest. 

"Don't make this worse for him!" she hissed. "Can't you see he's distraught about Charlie?" She thrust a mug of steaming tea into George's hand, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Try and get some rest. We'll worry about this in the morning when everybody's calmed down." 

George considered skeptically for a while, but eventually he smiled and returned Ginny's kiss. 

As the twins shepherded Lee and the girls upstairs, talking earnestly in low voices, Ginny passed a cup to Mr Weasley. 

"Thankyou, my dear," he said, with a sigh. He caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. "We'd all fall apart without you, you know." 

Privately, Harry thought Ginny deserved a great deal more praise than that for what she had done that evening, but he had neither the energy nor the inclination to voice his opinion. His head was aching, and there were other things on his mind. 

"Go to bed, Dad," Ginny was telling Mr Weasley. "Bill and Harry have checked. Everything's OK. They aren't here." 

Mr Weasley shook his head. "No, can't go to bed. Must go to the Ministry. Dumbledore will need to be told about this." 

"Dad, it's the middle of the night!" 

"Morning will be too late, Ginny," he replied, taking a long gulp of tea as he rose to his feet. "The Order needs to know now." 

"But we don't even know what happened here, sir!" Harry said, suddenly. 

Mr Weasley shrugged. "I think one could make a pretty shrewd guess. Don't worry about it, Harry. I think you'll all be safe here tonight, but I have to make sure that The Order is ready for action just in case they try again." 

Harry and Ginny exchanged glances. 

"We'll be OK, Dad," Ginny said at last. 

"You'll do something about your mother, won't you?" 

Ginny nodded. "I'll give her something now." 

"Good girl." Mr Weasley leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly, before catching up his bag and cloak. As Ginny left the room with her mother's tea, Mr Weasley placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. 

"Take care, Harry," he said, softly. "I don't think you need to worry, but be on your guard just the same." 

"I will, sir." 

"Good man." Mr Weasley paused in the doorway, turning to look back. "You'll look after them, won't you?" 

Something unspoken but profoundly clear passed between them just then - a telepathic bond of men which they both understood and accepted. Mr Weasley was charging Harry with protecting his family, trusting his skills as an experienced fighter. Harry was accepting the charge with a confidence that belied his inner uncertainty. 

He nodded calmly. 

Mr Weasley smiled, letting the door click shut behind him. A faint crack from the patio outside told Harry that he had Apparated, leaving the fate of his household in Harry's supposedly capable hands. 

He felt a surge of pride to be trusted so implicitly, when his track record of getting himself into extraordinary danger was so firmly against him. A pride which began to rapidly decrease as the usual doubts set in - 


	16. Aftershocks

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

******Aftershocks**

****

It was half past three. Mrs Weasley had fallen asleep hours ago after drinking Ginny's drug-laced tea. The whole house was sleeping at long last, except perhaps Bill, keeping a vigil over his brother's bed. 

And Harry, of course. 

He had not moved from his chair at the kitchen table ever since Mr Weasley had left for the Ministry. Ginny had returned briefly, only to disappear again to check on Hermione. That had been hours ago, and she hadn't come back, so Harry supposed she had gone to bed. 

Hadn't she told him to go too? Harry vaguely remembered her suggesting it, but for some reason he hadn't taken it in at the time. He'd got through at least seven cups of strong tea while he had been sitting alone. Perhaps that was why his headache had disappeared - numbed under the influence of caffeine, leaving behind a fuzzy sensation. If anything, his painful muscles were even more painful after over four hours in that hard-backed chair. 

He knew there was no point in trying to go up to bed. Sleep was a million miles away, despite his exhaustion. He'd lie awake all night, just thinking; remembering their faces, and that gory scene on the kitchen floor. Besides, he needed to be alert, just in case - 

It wasn't as though he had never seen such things before. His sixth year at Hogwarts had been full of tragedy, from first to last. When he had arrived back at the Dursley's house at the beginning of the summer, he felt like he had seen bitter, bloody battle. In retrospect, he mused, that had been the case. The gauntlet was down now, and two sides were amassing to slaughter one another. It had been threatening to happen for a long while, and the time had come. 

What had happened to Charlie had been no accident, that was certain. The Weasleys had become prime targets now, as Harry had feared. This was no longer a matter of secretive whispers and legends, as it had been when Harry had first come into contact with the wizarding world at the age of eleven. It was a global war for freedom over oppression; life over death. 

What would have happened if he hadn't won the Third Task with Cedric that day over two years ago? Harry laughed aloud. He knew perfectly well. Voldemort would not have fallen at the first hurdle. He'd have kept trying, on and on relentlessly, to obtain what he needed to become a living, breathing force once more. 

Harry stared blankly at the teapot. In essence, it was all down to him that so many people had been ruthlessly slaughtered. He was the one who had inadvertently achieved world-wide renown at the tender age of one for causing a backlash of power which had supposedly destroyed Voldemort. He was the one whose blood had been used to restore Voldemort to his initial state, ready to draw his old allies again, and reclaim the power he had lost in the intervening years. He was the one who had made friends with Ron that day on the Hogwarts Express, forging a bond between the Weasleys and himself which could not easily be unmade. He was the one who had recklessly fallen in love with Ginny. 

_Love?_

__Yes. That was painfully obvious to him now. He couldn't live without Ginny. He could never be the man he wanted to be unless she was in his life. For all his experience and subtlety, his defence skills and his determined spirit, it was Ginny who made him strong enough to face the uncertain future. It was the inward thought of Ginny that made going to bed at night and waking up in the morning bearable. The sound of her mesmorising voice and her gentle touch, which had the power to send his mind into turmoil as well as soothe his worst moments. 

And all he had succeeded in doing was endangering her family. Charlie's critical condition upstairs was proof of that. 

It was almost four o'clock in the morning when the sound of footsteps on the stairs shook Harry out of his morbid thoughts. The kitchen door swung open. 

She stood there in her pyjamas, her flaming hair flowing in waves over her shoulders. In the dimming candlelight, her eyes reflected the fiery glow. 

"Harry!" she breathed, as their gazes met. "Have you been here all night?" 

He nodded, words escaping him for more than one reason. 

Ginny bridged the gap between them, coming to stand beside him, her gentle hands resting on his tense shoulders. 

"You need sleep, Harry," she said, softly. "I've already got three invalids on my hands, I don't need another one." 

Her words drew a faint smile, until the familiar iron ring choked his heart again. He sighed, letting his eyelids flutter shut for a moment. Her voice sounded sweetly and low in his ear. 

"You mustn't blame yourself. It's not your fault." 

_How could she know that's what I'm thinking_? 

"It might as well be," he replied, hoarsely. "Your family is shielding a hunted man." 

"We're not shielding you. You don't need to be protected like a child, Harry. You've faced more than anyone since the Triwizard Tournament, and you've survived so far. You'll keep on surviving." 

"You reckon?" he murmured, doubtfully. 

"I know. What happens to this family is not your fault. Charlie, Bill, Mum, Dad, all of us - what we do is voluntary. We've chosen to stand up with The Order against - _him_. The dangers we accepted at the start, like you've done. This is something we've got to do, and we'll see it through." 

A surge of relief spread through Harry like fire. She was right, and she didn't blame him. _Thank God._

__His mind eased by her soothing words, the pain in his muscles became suddenly more apparent. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

"You need to rest, Harry," she said, earnestly, gently rubbing her fingertips across his shoulders. "You're so tense." 

The affectionate proximity of her touch wasn't helping matters, really. 

Her hands began to massage his muscles softly, sending sparks through his body which were entirely inappropriate. 

"Try to relax," she suggested, moving up to his neck, coming into contact with bare skin. Harry drew in his breath sharply. He had never felt less relaxed in his life. 

Wracking his brains for something to think about that would take his mind off what she was doing, he felt her fingers creep round to his collar, deftly undoing his top buttons. 

"What - what are you doing?" he croaked, hastily clearing his throat. 

"I can't unknot muscles through fabric, Harry," she said, with a smile in her voice. "Don't worry - I'm only going to undo the top three." 

Carefully she pulled his shirt backwards slightly, and slipped her fingers below the material. Harry's eyes snapped shut. If she knew what he was feeling at that moment - 

The thought didn't bear thinking about. 

The sensation of her rhythmic, gentle movements was making his head spin. If anything, the tension in his body was increasing. After five minutes or so, his attempt to think about something else had failed utterly. 

_It feels so good._

__He couldn't stand it any more. He caught her hands in a tight grip, and mentally shook himself. 

"Thanks, Gin," he managed to choke out. "You're completely amazing, did you know that?" She laughed quietly, letting his fingers entwine around hers. 

He brushed his lips against one of her palms, willing himself to calm down. He heard - and felt - her draw her breath in softly. Her skin seemed to shiver. 

She slowly withdrew her hands, placing her fingertips on his temples where his sensitivity was lower. He relaxed totally as she gently manipulated the pressure points, holding the weight of his head in her palm. It was a feeling in complete contrast to the sensations in his body a mere moment ago. His mind had gone blissfully blank, and a peaceful calmness flooded his soul, seeping into every limb. Whatever she was doing was no ordinary massage, he knew that much, but thinking was becoming gradually more and more impossible - 

It wasn't until a slight noise outside jarred him out of his relaxed state that he realised her hands had returned to his neck and shoulders, and were softly caressing his skin again. 

The kitchen door opened, and Ron ambled in slowly, rubbing his forehead. He stopped dead as he noted their unusually intimate position. 

"What the hell is this?" he said, brusquely. 

"What the hell are you doing up at this hour?" said Ginny, removing her hands from Harry's shoulders. Hastily, he pulled his shirt back to it's normal place, wondering why he felt guilty all of a sudden. 

Ron, it appeared, did not feel like pursuing the argument. He ran his fingers through his messy hair, and shuffled stiffly towards the back door. 

"Woke up," he replied, simply. "Couldn't get back to sleep again." 

"How's Hermione?" 

"Dead to the world. Did you slip her something as well?" 

"No." 

"Oh." He opened the back door and disappeared without another word. 

Ginny sighed. 

"I hope they've made up," Harry said, leaning forward onto his elbows. 

"They have," replied Ginny, with a faint smile. 

"Oh yes? How do you know?" 

"He stayed with her in my room. She was still rather upset, I think." Harry's eyebrows rose. Ginny noticed, and quickly added: "No! Nothing like that!" 

Harry grinned. "Where did you sleep, then?" 

"In Ron's room," she replied. Harry fancied he saw her blush slightly. "That's how I knew you hadn't been to bed." 

"Is that why you came down? To see where I was?" 

"To see how you were feeling," she corrected. "Yes. I guessed you'd be awake, thinking." 

Their eyes remained interlocked for what seemed like a very long time, until Ginny glanced downwards. 

"I should go and relieve Bill," she said. "He's been with Charlie all night." 

Harry nodded. He knew that she was wondering whether he would relapse into misery once she'd left him. "I'll be fine, Gin, don't worry." 

She raised her eyes again and smiled. "Sure?" 

"Sure." 

He watched her slender figure all the way across the kitchen and out into the hall, delighting in the sight. He felt strangely desolate when the door closed behind her. 

Then he remembered Ron. 

*** 

The night air blew against his face with surprising force. The wind was rising, and it seemed colder than it had been earlier that evening at Oberon's Well. Harry found Ron standing on the patio, leaning his elbows on the stone wall. 

"You all right?" he asked, coming to a stop beside him. 

Ron hastily hid one of his hands behind his back. 

Harry viewed him suspiciously. "Ron, you're not - ?" 

Ron's facial expression turned from mild irritation to quick anger in a matter of seconds. He returned Harry's glare and lifted his hand back onto the wall. 

"So what if I am?" 

Harry sighed. They'd had this conversation too many times before. 

"Hermione will kill you if she finds out." 

"Great. You're going to grass to her now, are you?" Ron retorted, bitterly. 

"No, I'm not! And stop yelling at me, OK? I'm doing my best here!" 

Ron snorted, but he seemed to be calming down. 

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," he said, grimly. 

"She'll smell it on your clothes tomorrow." 

"I'll change." 

Harry felt it wise to abandon the subject, watching Ron blow out a cloud of grey smoke. Though truthfully, Ron was always easier to handle when he had a cigarette in his fingers. 

"She'd go mad if she knew," Ron sighed, staring at his hands on the wall. "I can't do anything right, can I?" 

"The trouble with you two is that you treat this friendship like a war of wills," Harry said, struck by the unusual display of regret in his best friend's demeanour. "Would it be so bad to lighten up?" 

Ron shrugged. "I always say the wrong things. Then she takes the moral highground and makes me feel worse. Then I say the wrong things again." He let his head fall forward into his hands, furrowing his brow. 

Harry didn't know what to say. He'd have to leave this one to Ginny. Instead, he laid his hand on Ron's shoulder and gave him a little shake. 

The back door opened, and footsteps sounded across the patio towards them. Ron didn't even bother hiding his cigarette this time. 

Bill fell onto his elbows on the wall, letting out a long sigh. 

"Ginny's taken over," he said, moving his neck stiffly. 

"How's Charlie doing?" asked Harry. 

"His pulse is stronger, but he's still pale. Has Dad gone to the Ministry?" 

Harry nodded. 

"Good. Give us one of them, Ron." 

Ron reached lazily into his pocket and tossed a little box to Bill. 

"Mum would hit the ceiling, mate," said Bill, passing the box back when he had taken one. 

Harry felt Ron swell with anger beside him, and placed a hand on his elbow, pressing his fingers into the sinews sharply, forcing him to relax. Bill straightened his back like a threatened cat, giving Ron a hard look which he instantly returned. "You going to tell her?" 

"No," replied Bill, calmly, leaning on the wall again. "She doesn't like me doing it either, remember?" 

The tension in the atmosphere eased almost immediately. Harry was well used to Ron's violent mood swings, and he'd had plenty of practise in handling him. Bill, having the same genes, could empathise with him in a way only siblings could. The next few minutes were spent in contemplative silence as the three of them watched the rising dawn across the valley. Nobody seemed particularly inclined to break the peace, until Ron let out a long stream of smoke in what was clearly a pained sigh. 

"You OK?" asked Bill, viewing him sideways. 

"Been better," replied Ron, dully. 

"You look terrible. Haven't you slept?" 

"Caught three or four hours after Hermione fell asleep, but something woke me up. Incidentally, Harry, what was going on in the kitchen when I came down?" 

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and he searched for a reasonable response, but found he didn't really feel like giving one. What passed between him and Ginny was personal, and nobody else's business, and that particular moment in the kitchen had been special. He felt like he was carrying the Holy Grail inside him, and he didn't want to share it. "Nothing." 

Ron gave him a quizzical, skeptical look. "Good time to pick," he said, grumpily. 

"Nothing was going on!" Harry said, rather more forcefully. "Do you think I - ? Do you think I would - ?" He realised that whatever he said in defence of himself just then would either be a downright lie or the truth, and neither option felt like the wisest thing to say to Ginny's brothers. 

Ron shrugged, and gave up the argument. Harry knew that his sister wasn't the only woman on his mind, and even Ginny was having to take second place in his thoughts at that moment. 

"I think I'll go back inside," said Ron, flicking his cigarette end over the wall. "See you later." 

Harry and Bill exchanged glances as Ron disappeared into the kitchen. 

"Phew!" breathed Bill. "Is it me, or is he getting harder to deal with?" 

Harry nodded, grimly. "He gets angrier these days. He's a bit screwed up inside, unsurprisingly." 

"Hermione?" 

Harry smiled. "Good. I was starting to think I was imagining things." 

Bill glanced sideways at Harry, curiously. "Is it that obvious to you?" 

"I've known him for years," shrugged Harry. "I can tell when something's on his mind, and Hermione's too. I'm just surprised they haven't picked it up in each other yet." 

"Ron's notoriously obtuse about things like this," said Bill, with a laugh, twirling his cigarette end in his fingers before flicking it the way of Ron's. "When it's an issue of himself, that is. Bit like you, really." 

It took a few seconds for Harry to process the last part, his forehead furrowed, thoughtfully. "Sorry?" 

"Are you aware that you're making your feelings towards my sister painfully obvious?" 

_Bloody hell! Get out of that one, Potter!_

__Bill was staring at him, half amused, half serious. There was no way out. 

Harry resigned himself to his fate, letting his head drop into his hands, running tense fingers through his thick hair. "Is it that obvious?" 

"Painfully," replied Bill, nodding. 

Harry took a deep breath, waiting for the moment when Bill would accuse him of being thoughtless and cruel to consider endangering Ginny's life - 

"Nasty situation," said Bill, blandly. Then he smiled. "You look like you're suffering." 

Harry glanced at Bill's face, before attempting to relieve the taut pressure in his temples the way Ginny had done. 

"It's killing me." 

"That bad, really?" 

"Worse." 

Bill seemed genuinely surprised, but he didn't appear to be angry at all. He considered for a moment, before turning squarely to face him. "Look, Harry, if it was up to me I'd say tell her how you feel about her, be with her and be happy. You care about her a lot, I know. You've made that obvious too." 

"But it's not as simple as that, is it?" 

"Unfortunately not. We all just want each other to be safe, you and Hermione included, and that's sometimes trickier than it seems. Loving somebody is often the fastest way towards putting them in danger. It all depends on how strong that love is." Bill laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Whatever you decide, do me a favour, OK?" 

"What?" 

"Look after my sister." 


	17. Illusions

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Illusions

With the aid of several cups of strong, syrup-like coffee, Harry managed to stay awake long after Bill had gone up to bed. He was in the process of preparing a fifth when Mrs Weasley came into the kitchen, fully-dressed and with bright eyes. 

"Harry! What on earth - ?" 

Harry felt the need to explain some of the things that had happened since Ginny's tranquilisers had taken effect the evening before. 

"Oh, how utterly typical!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley, when he had finished. "I might have known he'd run straight off to the Ministry without thinking! Where is everybody?" 

"Asleep. Bill stayed up with Charlie until dawn, and then Ginny took over." 

"Yes, I've been in to see them already. He's got a bit more colour this morning, which is more than I can say for you, Harry, dear. You look like you've seen your own ghost!" 

Naturally Harry had omitted to apprise Mrs Weasley of what had passed between himself, Ron and Bill out on the patio, and the fact that Ginny had been up during the night as well, but he felt she had hit the nail on the head, rather. Having one's entire life's experiences and feelings played out over the course of ten hours had a similar effect to seeing one's own ghost, he imagined. 

"I'm OK, Mrs Weasley, really," he began, reaching for the kettle to refill his coffee mug. 

"Oh no you don't! I know what you're like, Harry. I've never known anyone like you for knocking back the caffeine, and that's a fact. It won't do you any good in the long run. Have a glass of water instead, and then get a few hours' sleep before Arthur comes back." 

Harry started to appreciate how hard it must be for Ron and Bill to find the opportunity to satisfy their nicotine cravings without detection. He could just imagine the lecture their mother would give them if she knew they were still doing it. He could also see her reaction if she ever discovered that it wasn't always plain coffee in his mug - 

"I'm not tired," he said, not altogether truthfully. Mr Weasley could be back at any time and Harry did not want to miss his news. 

Mrs Weasley viewed him, thoughtfully. "I'll wake you the second he walks through the door," she said, as though she was reading his mind. "Sleep on the sofa in the next room if you like." 

The numbness created by all the caffeine was already starting to wear off, and the extent of his own exhaustion suddenly hit Harry hard. 

"Are you sure that - ?" 

"Everything will be fine, dear, don't worry. You've been watching over us all night, and now it's your turn to rest." 

She smiled fondly, and gave him a little push towards the lounge. 

*** 

Harry sat on the edge of his bed in Ron's room, leafing through one of his many Quidditch books. He could hardly wait to get back to Hogwarts and start practising again, ready for the Slytherin match. Malfoy was screwed! 

The sky outside had turned a horrible grey colour as clouds began to converge over the sun, and Harry shivered. He couldn't quite think why, since it had been lovely and warm just a moment or two ago, but the wind was blowing at Ron's curtains through the open window. 

Harry rolled off the bed and walked towards the window to close it against the gale. He would have closed the curtains again and returned to his book if a movement down on the patio hadn't caught his attention. 

His initial reaction was to grab his wand and stay hidden and silent, just in case. Crouching below the windowsill, he peered through a crack in the curtains, watching three of four dark figures approach the swing lounger. It had started to rain. A heavy, driving rain that made visibility poor. Harry opened the window and crept out onto the stairs, keeping his eyes on the patio. 

By the time he had reached the bottom, and concealed himself behind Mr Weasley's car, the figures had aimed their wands at the lounger. 

_Somebody's in it!_ Harry thought, frantically. Desperately, he tried to run forward, but he couldn't move his legs. Something was hurting him, and it wasn't his scar. It was something deep inside him near his stomach. He felt horribly, horribly sick - 

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" 

A flash of green light blinded him before he knew what was happening, and a high-pitched scream struck terror into his heart. The figures vanished into the grey rain before he could point his wand to them. 

Harry forced himself to move, breaking whatever bond it was that held him fast. He almost collapsed onto the lounger, panting wildly. He turned the limp, sodden body on the cushions over. A pair of lifeless, chocolate eyes stared blankly back at him. 

_Ginny! God, no! This can't be happening! NO! _

He was trembling from head to foot so much that his brain was hurting from the motion. He felt unbelievably sick - 

"Harry? HARRY!" 

His eyes flew open. 

A pair of wide, chocolate eyes, brilliant and very much alive, were gazing back at him, shining in fear and concern_. _

_Ginny?_

Her hands were on his shoulders, shaking him awake. She looked terrified. 

"Harry! It's OK, you were dreaming. You're all right. Everything's all right." 

Harry felt himself breathing hoarsely. His skin was covered in cold sweat, and his head was throbbing. Words failed him completely. All he could do was gaze back into Ginny's beautiful eyes and tell himself over and over again that she was alive and right beside him. He sank back onto the sofa. He gripped her hands tightly, and drew her closer to his face. 

"My God!" he breathed, as her arms wound themselves around his neck, pulling his head against her warm breast. "Ginny!" 

"It's all right," she said, soothingly, rocking him gently against her. She went on talking softly until he began to relax. He could feel her warmth, smell her perfume, even hear her heartbeat. A kiss pressed against his scar served to rid his mind and body of the last memories of the dream. 

The sound of a door opening told him that they were no longer alone in the room. 

"Ginny! Is he OK? What happened?" 

"Harry? Are you all right?" 

"I'm fine," he croaked, raising his head from Ginny's embrace. 

"Give him some air, Hermione! Let the man breathe!" 

"Go and make a strong pot of coffee, someone." 

"No! Not caffeine! He's had enough in the past twenty-four hours to floor an elephant. I'll go and get some water." 

The door creaked again as Mrs Weasley disappeared back into the kitchen. 

"OK, fine. Move over, Gin." 

"Ron, no! Not that!" 

"Hermione, trust me. It's only whisky." 

"Exactly, that's what I'm afraid of." 

Harry took the hip-flask Ron was holding out, and took a long gulp. 

"Ron, I don't think this is a good idea - " 

"Just trust me, OK?" 

The liquid ran through Harry's system like fire, warming every nerve and sinew, shaking his head into a normal semblance of order. It felt so good - 

"Honestly, Ron, what are you thinking? Why the hell didn't you tell me you still kept that stuff?" 

"Because I knew you'd react like this! It's medicinal." 

"Yeah, whatever. And don't think I can't smell the nicotine on you. You forgot to wash your hair, didn't you?" 

Harry groaned aloud. "For the love of God, you two, don't start fighting again, please!" 

Hermione rounded on him. "You knew he was still doing it, didn't you?" 

"Leave Harry out of this, Hermione. He only found out last night." 

"Just STOP IT, please!" yelled Ginny, glaring at all three of them with fiery eyes. "This is driving me crazy!" 

Ron and Hermione fell silent, flooded with guilt at the sight of her despairing expression. 

Ginny took a deep breath, and turned to Harry. 

"Give me the flask." 

"You're not going to tell Mum?" gaped Ron, incredulously. 

Ginny ignored him, and took the flask from Harry's outstretched hand. Instead of taking it through to the kitchen, she walked straight up to Ron and pushed it into his back pocket. 

"Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione, aghast. 

"Promise me that you'll try and stay off it, Ron." 

Brother and sister stared at each other for a few moments, relaying unspoken thoughts that the other two could not understand. Eventually Ron nodded, and pulled Ginny into a warm hug. 

"And you - " continued Ginny, turning again to face Harry, " - can promise too. Try and stay off it, Harry. Please." 

Harry would have promised her anything. He nodded. 

"And as for you, " Ginny looked over at Hermione's horrified face. "You can promise to help them." 

Instantly, Hermione's astonished eyes became sympathetic, and filled up with tears. She gave a yielding nod, before glancing at Ron. 

"Sorry," he said, meekly. "I shouldn't have lied to you." 

Hermione went briskly to him and wrapped her arms round his neck. He held her close, oblivious to the satisfied smiles on the other two faces in the room. 

*** 

"Thank God for that," Ginny sighed, sitting down on the sofa beside Harry after Ron and Hermione had gone out. 

Harry forced a smile, wondering how to voice his feelings at that particular moment. 

"Gin?" 

"Yes?" 

"I'm sorry too." 

"What for?" 

"I should have stopped it." 

"The drinking?" 

"Yes. But I swear, it's nothing serious. Just to steady our nerves. You understand, don't you?" 

"Of course I do. I know what you're going through, Harry. I know how hard it must be, and I hate it that you have to put up with it. But I'm glad you've got Ron. He's an idiot, but he's loyal and brave. He'd go into the worst danger with you, you know." 

"I know. He knows he doesn't have to, but he's determined just the same. That's what makes him such a great guy." 

"Harry?" 

"Yes, Gin?" 

She stared into his eyes with all the fervour he had observed in her before. So vital and strong. "I'm - I'm proud of you. I'd do anything to make your life easier, you know that, don't you?" 

Harry's heart started pounding so hard against his ribcage that he felt sure she could hear it. "I know," he said. "Gin - you do trust me, don't you?" 

"More than anyone." Her eyes flickered down to the floor. "You won't let it get out of hand, will you?" 

He knew what she meant without her having to spell it out. "Never." 

She smiled up at him so sweetly that Harry felt like his heart would burst. He put an arm round her shoulders and squeezed gently. 

Raised voices in the kitchen and the sound of chairs scraping on the floor roused them from their sleepy moment of peace. 

"Dad's back!" whispered Ginny, jumping to her feet and pulling Harry up with her. They rushed into the next room. 

Mr Weasley was fending off anxious questions from every quarter, while Mrs Weasley was attempting to persuade him to sit down and drink some tea. 

"SILENCE!" he bellowed, making the windows rattle and the chickens hurtle away in terror. Everyone shrank back in surprise. "That's better," he said, straightening his robes and settling down at the table. "Thankyou, Molly." 

He sat like that for several minutes, sipping his tea, while everyone crowded around the table waiting eagerly for what he had to say. 

"Well?" urged Ron. 

"Well what?" 

"What did the Ministry say?" 

"The Ministry, as one might have expected, favoured dismissing the matter as a one-off, unfortunate incident which would be better left unpublicised and merely filed away for future reference." 

"WHAT?" 

"Dumbledore, on the other hand, has taken the matter much more seriously, I'm pleased to say, and we have spoken about it in some detail." 

Harry's eyebrows rose. This didn't sound very promising. 

"What did he say, Dad?" persisted Fred, nudging his father's arm. 

Mr Weasley cleared his throat. "He is going to inform The Order immediately, and recall every member as soon as possible." 

Groans of disappointment sounded around the little room. 

"Oh no, we haven't got to go back to Grimmauld Place again, have we?" wailed George. 

"No. Grimmauld Place is being watched closely by the enemy and it is unsafe to gather there any more after the events of last year. Instead, he is calling the members to a new venue where hopefully something can be decided upon. In the meantime, security spells are to be tightened on this house and there is to be no Apparation without cover; no travelling outside of this house without The Order's express permission; no communication either postal, personal or via the fireplaces with anyone who is not in this room at this moment, with the exception of myself; and above all, no tempers to be exhibited as regards these rules." 

The room fell silent as the true meaning of his words began to sink in. 

"Dumbledore really thinks it's that serious?" asked Bill, after a moment or two. 

"I'm afraid so. We can't afford to take any chances. Obviously someone tracked Charlie all the way back from Russia with the intention of removing him permanently from the face of the globe. Perhaps he knew something, or they thought he knew something that they didn't want The Order hearing about. Luckily they failed, so he will be able to tell us why he was tracked when he has recovered. Until we know for sure, everyone, and I mean everyone, must obey ALL the rules I have just mentioned. Is that clear?" 

There was a general nodding of heads. 

"I suppose this means that Lee, Angelina, Alicia and Fleur won't be able to return to their homes?" said Mrs Weasley, anxiously. 

"No, they won't. I'm sorry that you should be involved in this, ladies, and gentleman, but I'm sure you can appreciate the vital importance of the situation. This is very grave, and lives are at stake if we do not maintain security. Do you understand?" 

More nodding. 

Mr Weasley sighed. "The security spells are going to be tightened as of this evening. Some Order members are going to Apparate under strict cover to perform the spells, and then we might be able to relax a little." 

"Does that mean Harry's party can go ahead?" asked Fred, eagerly. 

"Of course. God knows we need to have some fun to take our minds off everything. But only after The Order has finished assessing the situation, all right?" 

The twins agreed enthusiastically. Harry felt rather depressed all of a sudden. All the excitement he had been feeling a few days ago had vanished, and he didn't think he would be in the mood for a party for a long while yet. 

"Is Sirius coming to do the spells?" he asked, hopefully. 

Mr Weasley shrugged. "No idea. Perhaps. Anyway, the members will be with us in a couple of hours' time, so I suggest that we all have something to eat. What do you think, Molly?" 

"Of course," said Mrs Weasley. "Come on girls, let's see what we can do." 

Mr Weasley set his cup down heavily on the table. "And NOBODY is to leave this house, not even to go into the garden, until I say so. Bill, you and I should keep an eye out. Come on." 


	18. The Threshold of Life

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

**The Threshold of Life**

****

The hall clock struck eight, making Harry's elbow fall off the arm of his chair in his surprise. He shook his head, thinking that he must have dozed off for a moment. The sound of the chimes reverberated around the little house like a death knell, deep, loud, and full of foreboding. They had been waiting for hours - it felt like days - and still no-one had arrived. Soon the clock resumed its rhythmic ticking, like a bomb preparing to go off at any moment. It only served to increase the tension already present in the little lounge. The atmosphere could have been cut through with a knife. 

He glanced around at the others, wondering if they felt as restless and uneasy as he did. 

Evidently so, for Ron was sitting on the sofa, leaning his elbows on his knees, his face hidden by his hands. Beside him, Hermione watched anxiously, placing a gentle hand on his arm, and Mr Weasley's heavy sighs were becoming louder as the minutes passed. The twins were lying all over the floor with Lee and the girls, fiddling with loose threads in the hearth-rug or drawing pictures in the film of soot that blanketed the grate. Harry could tell that Fred was dying to say something, but Angelina's constant warning pokes and glances were keeping him in check. 

"God, this is insane!" muttered Bill, from his vantage point by the door. He stretched his long legs out across the floor, placing his booted feet right under George's nose. 

"Won't be long now," said Mr Weasley, in a calm, sing-song voice that failed to conceal his inner anxiety. 

It seemed hours before several faint cracks broke the deafening silence. Suddenly, everyone had jumped to attention, and loud exclamations of eagerness ensued. What had been a deadly silence ever since Mr Weasley had returned now became a chaotic babble. 

"WAIT!" bellowed Mr Weasley, stunning everyone into stillness. "NOBODY IS TO MOVE!" 

Glances, both surprised and terrified, were exchanged across the room. No-one dared to sit down, or even move an eyebrow. Calmly and purposefully, Mr Weasley strode out, ordering Bill to follow. 

Instantly the atmosphere relaxed, and a flurry of fervent conversation broke out in relief. 

"I thought they were never coming!" breathed Hermione, falling backwards into the chair Harry had been occupying previously. 

"Who is it, Fred, can you see?" urged Ginny, kneeling on the sofa to peer over Fred's shoulder at the scene outside the window. 

"It's too dark," he replied, indignantly. "Damn! And I bet they'll leave without telling us anything!" 

"They'd bloody well better tell us what's going on!" growled Ron. "I'm pissed off with being kept in the dark all the time!" 

"Well, then, Mr Weasley. Perhaps you'd care to be enlightened." 

Ron span round to face the owner of the new voice, revealing him to the rest of the room as he moved aside. Remus Lupin stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, looking harassed and annoyed. But it was not the Remus Lupin that any of them remembered. 

He was dressed from head to foot in the customary jet robes of The Order, with a single silver-rimmed opalescent clasp at his throat holding his cloak in place. Sleek hair the colour of burnt almonds fell neatly over his neck, and he surveyed them with brilliant emerald-gold eyes below dark brows, drawn together in a cryptic frown. The change in his appearance was so unexpected and drastic that Ron was temporarily struck dumb. 

Closing his mouth, Harry decided to intervene. 

"Are you going to explain what's happening?" he asked, as politely as he could. He had not forgotten the frustration he had suffered in his fifth year after being treated like an imbecile, untrusted and uninformed while everyone else discussed his future during his absence. 

"Yes, I am," replied Lupin, frowning heatedly. "I think you all have a right to know, and the Headmaster agrees." 

He moved slowly across the room with a tall, dignified grace that Harry did not remember observing before. His slim figure was no longer giving the impression of neglect and malnutrition, but of youthful energy and carefully trained physical strength. The anxious lines in his face had vanished, and those vivid green-amber eyes were not at all like the tired, grey ones of Harry's old DADA Professor. Underneath the nettled expression, which must have been due to more than just Ron's impatient crudeness, a virile, spirited vigour was flooding his entire persona. 

"I suggest you all sit down," he said, bracing himself with a hand on the mantelpiece as he raised a booted foot onto the grate. 

He waited a moment or two while everyone gathered their scattered thoughts and made themselves comfortable. 

"How long are you staying?" asked Hermione, tentatively. 

"I, personally, am staying until I see all four of you back on the train to Hogwarts." He took in Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny with a sweep of his hand. "We can't take any chances. Sirius, you will be pleased to hear, will be staying too." 

Harry felt relief and excitement flood him both at the same time. He had several bones to pick with his godfather - 

"What about Tonks and Kingsley and the others?" continued Hermione. 

Lupin straightened his back, and tossed fugitive strands of hair out of his eyes. "Busy at the Ministry for the time being," he replied, curtly. 

Harry was confused. "I thought Mr Weasley said that Professor Dumbledore was going to recall The Order." 

"So he has. A new headquarters has been arranged and we will be moving out as soon as you are safely back at school." 

"So it was me they were after?" said Harry, frowning. 

"Nobody knows. It could be that they got word that you were here with Arthur Weasley, and they tracked Charlie to find where his family were living. Perhaps he discovered he was being followed and took them on, losing the fight one to God knows how many." Lupin scowled fiercely. He leaned against the wall beside the fireplace. "We won't know for sure until Charlie regains consciousness, but that could be days yet. In the meantime we have to allow for every possibility, hence the spells we are strengthening here tonight." 

"Where is your new headquarters?" blurted out Fred, suddenly. 

Lupin turned his scowl abruptly onto him. "Do you seriously expect me to reveal that, Mr Weasley?" 

Fred didn't answer, and fidgeted in his seat. 

"What are you planning on doing once The Order is re-established?" asked Harry. It was a question he had been dying to ask someone for weeks. 

"Keeping an eye out; finding information; kicking Fudge out of office, hopefully." 

His tone was so bland and droll that several giggles erupted, most inappropriately. Lupin's lips curved into a smile. 

"Does that mean Dad's in?" asked Ron, hopefully. 

Lupin shrugged. "That's not my affair. I can't think of a better replacement, though. Your father is an exceptionally intelligent man, and we need people like him at the top." 

"Who decides?" 

"The top-level Departmental Ministers. Dumbledore will get a say as well, being Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Head of The Order. Whoever they settle on, we should have Fudge out and the new chap in by October, no problem." His eyes glittered with feverish excitement as he relished the thought of Fudge's face when he reached the end of his term. 

"And about bloody time and all!" 

Sirius Black strolled into the lounge grinning widely. He made straight for Harry and clapped him on the shoulder. "How you doing, mate?" 

He looked remarkably unstressed considering the devastating failure of the mission in Russia. His hair was tamed for once, and framed his golden-brown skin like a dark, silken aura. Had he not been wearing the handsome, trademark grin and been gazing at them with sparkling eyes, Harry would have likened him to one of the evil overlords from Muggle fantasy stories. 

As it was, Harry suppressed the desire both to shout at him for being so damned cheerful after all the months he had been away and to start asking for every tiny little detail about the recent Russian expedition. "I'll be fine as soon as the pair of you start talking properly!" he replied, grinning back at his godfather. 

Sirius and Lupin exchanged amused glances. 

"Told you he'd start the second we walked in the door, didn't I?" said Sirius, with a laugh. 

"I've explained about the immediate plan," said Lupin, seriously, though Harry observed an unusual expression in his eyes, relief coupled with entertainment. 

"Excellent." Sirius dropped into an armchair, letting his arms flop casually over the arms. "God, I'm knackered." 

This time Lupin could not hide a smile. 

"Oh, Harry - Dumbledore's talking to Arthur in the kitchen," said Sirius, almost as an afterthought. "He wants a word, if you wouldn't mind. Ron and Hermione too." 

"Dumbledore?" exclaimed Hermione, before she could stop herself. "What's he doing here?" 

"Needed to see Arthur," replied Sirius, slightly more gravely. When he looked up at Harry his eyes were deadly serious, all the mischief gone. "And you." He nodded his head towards the door, indicating that they should go straight away. 

With mixed feelings, Harry went out into the hall, followed by Ron and Hermione. 

"Um - is anyone else slightly worried about this?" asked Ron, anxiously, pulling the door to behind him. 

"Just a tad," replied Harry. Whatever had induced Dumbledore to leave the safety of wherever it was he usually stayed during the summer, it had to be very important. 

He pushed the kitchen door open. 

Mr Weasley was sitting in his usual place with a huge mug of tea, deep in conversation with Professor Dumbledore. They both raised their heads. 

"Ah!" said Dumbledore, in his customary calm tones. "Come in, take a seat. Thankyou, Arthur." 

Mr Weasley nodded, left the room swiftly. 

Anxiously, the three shuffled into chairs facing the Headmaster, who viewed them over the rim of his half-moon glasses, gravely. 

"Now, I want it understood that under no circumstances do I wish to disrupt the planned festivities for next week, but I fear that what I have to say may cause some distress among you." 

They glanced awkwardly at each other, wondering what on earth he was about to tell them. 

Dumbledore leaned forward onto his elbows, staring keenly into Harry's eyes. "Chiefly, what I have to say concerns you, Harry, but since your friends are never ones to leave your side, I thought it best that they should hear too." 

Harry nodded. "I would tell them anything, sir," he replied. 

"So I had anticipated." He paused for a moment, before shifting his stare to Ron, seated beside Harry. "I am terribly sorry about your brother, Mr Weasley. It was a tragic incident which The Order ought to have prevented. I have just been offering my consolations and my apologies to your father." 

Ron appeared to be thoroughly dumbstruck, and merely dropped his eyes onto the table. 

"This is deadly serious, isn't it, Professor?" said Harry, deciding to move things along a little. If Dumbledore was about to break some ghastly news to him, he would prefer to get it over with quickly. 

"Extremely. Unfortunately, Harry, the events of past months have led us further out of our way than we ever imagined. Times are dangerous, more so than ever, as I'm sure you can appreciate." 

"Obviously," Harry muttered, frowning. He was starting to get annoyed. "It's rather hard to forget with spells and restrictions and censors and warnings ruling your life!" 

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair again, with a faint smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I always knew you'd stand up to me in the end, Harry. It was something that your father did too. He couldn't bear to be shepherded around like a child, guarded and protected all the time. Mind you, he yelled the place down when I told him I was having a twenty-four hour surveillance guard put on him." He chuckled reminiscently. "But not you. You've got your mother's temperament." He waited for a moment to let Harry and the others process his words. "You are also in a great deal more danger than he was. And you are several years younger too. Are you sure it's a wise thing to start throwing protection back at the people who offer it to you?" 

Harry frowned again, fighting the desire to raise his voice and say something that he might regret. If he had his mother's temperament, she must have been a hell-raiser! 

"I appreciate the fact that it must be hard to keep tabs on me, sir," he replied, keeping his tone as polite as he could. "And I appreciate the effort that is being made for my safety, but I would like to be given a chance to protect myself for once. I can't be hidden away forever like an incompetent idiot!" 

Hermione's sharp intake of breath indicated that he might just have crossed the line. He simmered down, and sighed. 

"I'm sorry, sir. It's just frustrating." 

"I know," said Dumbledore, sympathetically. "I can quite see that. You'll be of age next week, Harry. An adult. A grown man. You've proved yourself on a great many occasions to have wisdom beyond your years. So, I have decided to offer you a compromise." 

Harry's eyebrows rose. "What's that, sir?" 

If it was possible for Dumbledore's face to become ever graver, it did at that moment. "Your safety is the most important thing in this issue, Harry. You must be kept alive and unharmed at all costs. For the past two years you have been watched over by The Order - Sirius, Tonks, Remus, Arthur, all of them. They are all trained in defence, and most of them are fully trained Aurors as well as Order members. They are a competent guard, you understand." 

Harry nodded in agreement, wondering where this was going. 

"I am going to offer you something that I have been reluctantly forced to consider since last year. And due to the recent attack on Mr Weasley, I have been forced to reconsider it even more seriously. I have now made my decision. The rest is up to you. This is not an order, nor an obligation, but a piece of grave advice, Harry, which I want you to think about very carefully before you answer me." 

He drew in a great breath as if loathe to speak the words, but knowing all the while that they must be uttered. "The opportunity is open, Harry, for you to forego your final year at Hogwarts, that is N.E.W.T.S. also, in favour of preliminary training in the arts of defence with a view to your future as a fully qualified Auror." 


	19. The Power of Three

**Helloooo!!!! I LOVE you guys! All these fantastic reviews!!! :-)**

**Just a quick note to Foxfur, about that spelling mistake. I'm British, as are many other writers on ff.net, and the British spelling of the American 'defense' is 'defence', like 'colour' and 'honour' instead of 'color' and 'honor'. Just so you know that we're not making errors. Thanks for the review though! I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

Oh yes - one other thing. The timescale in the next couple of chapters is a bit dodgy. Harry's birthday is supposed to be at the end of July, and the Hogwarts term starts on September 1st as a rule. The following chapters give the impression that Harry's party is the week before term starts, which is obviously hideously wrong. So either ignore this nasty anomaly, or else pretend that three or four weeks have passed between the party and the start of term!!!

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

**The Power of Three**

The earth could have stopped revolving around the sun for all that Harry knew. He stared into the aged, grey face of his Headmaster without even taking in what he was looking at. The bottom had almost dropped out of his world. 

Emotions coursed through him like wild fire, all conflicting, and all bereaving him of speech. It took all of five minutes for him to fully process what had just been said in that little kitchen. 

"Are you serious, sir?" he choked out at last. 

"Very much so," replied Dumbledore. "I would have preferred you to finish your exams first, and then continue to train after you had left, as you would have done in normal circumstances. Unfortunately, I think, as do others, that the benefit of studying advanced defence will be much more appropriate to your personal needs than achieving N.E.W.T.S. in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. I'm sure you see my point." 

"My God," breathed Harry. He felt utterly stunned. 

"As I said, I will not make you do it if it isn't what you want. The decision is yours. I am merely the agent of information and opportunity." 

"It's what I've always wanted," he said, still hardly daring to believe it. "It's the one thing I knew I could do. The one thing I've aimed for." 

"Harry! Are you insane?" squealed Hermione, suddenly. She was staring at him with wide eyes that shone with fear. "It's the most dangerous profession anyone could choose!" 

Harry turned to her in astonishment. "You knew that's what I wanted to do after school, Hermione! We've talked about it loads of times! You didn't mind then." 

"I know! When you've got an extra year's worth of study behind you, fine! But this is a year too soon, Harry! You'll have to leave Hogwarts, and everything there that you love so much, and all your friends. We might never see you again! And God knows what they'll make you do once they think you've got the hang of what you're doing! They'll send you out with Sirius and Lupin into all sorts of horrific situations!" 

"That's the whole point!" exclaimed Ron, in complete shock. "So it's a year early! What the heck!" 

"Harry!" cried Hermione, turning her back on Ron as though he hadn't said anything. "You could be KILLED!" 

The silence that followed was breathtakingly uneasy. For a while nobody spoke, Harry stretching his legs out under the table so far that he almost disappeared below the table edge. Hermione sniffed. 

"I happen to agree with Mr Weasley," said Dumbledore, with a tiny smile. "I would never have agreed to offer Harry the chance to do this if I did not believe he was capable of the challenge." 

Hermione subsided, opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish. 

"So, will you do it, Harry?" asked Ron, quietly. 

"Hell, yes! I can be useful at last!" 

Ron leapt to his feet. "You'll do it alone? 'Mione's right, Harry - you could get killed! You can't go into this on your own!" 

Harry fell silent at the look on Ron's face, scared and desperate, intense energy simmering in his cobalt eyes. 

"Mr Weasley?" 

"Sir?" Ron turned to face the Headmaster. 

Dumbledore smiled again, this time unrestrainedly. "The offer is also open to yourself." 

Ron's eyebrows might have flown off his face and hit the ceiling, they shot up so fast. "Really?" he gasped. 

"Certainly. I knew all the time that you would never let him go without you. You're as inseparable as your twin brothers! I've spoken to your father, and reluctantly he has agreed to respect your decision, whatever that might be. And you'll be able to keep an eye on your sister, if you should be worrying about that. You will both remain at Hogwarts for the duration of the year, where I can keep my eye on the pair of you. And as Miss Granger has pointed out, it would be cruel to begrudge you your final year." He chuckled in amusement. 

"Hey, Harry! This means no more Potions!" cried Ron, grinning madly.

Only Dumbledore seemed to have noticed Hermione's downcast eyes, brimming with tears. He stood up and walked around to her side of the table, beckoning her to stand up and come to him. 

"Miss Granger?" 

"Yes, sir?" 

"I have been thinking - there is something I would very much like to give you. I know it cannot make up for the shock you have just had, but perhaps it will take your mind off worrying." 

He held out his hand, and pressed something into her open palm. 

She gasped as she saw what he had left there - a bright, shiny red badge emblazoned with the words 'Head Girl' in gold lettering. She ran her fingertips over it in astonishment. 

"It's yours, Miss Granger, if you would like it," continued Dumbledore, with a mysterious glint in his eye. "You are an exceptional student, and one I shall be loathe to let go at the end of this year. I am confident that you will do great things with this, and I have no doubt at all as to your capabilities." 

Through the tears running down her cheeks, Hermione smiled up in delight, speechless for once in her life. 

"So much so, in fact," he went on, sighing dramatically, "that I'm going to let you make my more difficult decisions from now on. You see, I get so tired and confused. Call it old age catching up with me." He placed a tender hand on her shoulder. "May I ask your help?" 

Hermione nodded. 

"It's such a complicated problem, I don't know what to do about it. There is only so much one person can do in a day, as I'm sure you can appreciate. Do too much and one just falls to pieces. Do you see?" 

She nodded again, slightly bemusedly. 

"Well, knowing you as well as I do, Miss Granger, I'd say that you are very fond of these two young gentlemen, is that not so?" 

"Of course." 

"And I have no doubt that if you could you would go to the ends of the earth with them, through any amount of danger?" 

She nodded, her face set.

Dumbledore sighed. "I thought as much. Ah well, it was worth a try." 

"I - I don't understand," she faltered, turning to Harry and Ron as though she hoped for some kind of explanation. 

"Many a good Head Girl have I had in my time, my dear, but you would have been the best." He glanced down at her quizzical expression and smiled. "You can't do both, you know. It's either that - " He indicated the badge in her hand, and then waved his hand towards Harry and Ron, " - or them."

Ron's jaw fell open, and he took a step forward. 

"You don't mean - ?" 

"Yes, Mr Weasley, that's exactly what I mean. What do you say, Miss Granger?" 

He viewed Hermione gravely while she gazed longingly at the shiny badge in her palm, holding up a hand to warn Harry and Ron to say nothing. 

Harry could imagine the battle of wills going on inside her head just then. She had wanted nothing more than she wanted that badge, ever since she became a Prefect in their fifth year. She had worked hard for it. She damn well deserved it! And now to be faced with such a choice - 

Hermione raised her head and looked up at Dumbledore determinedly. She handed the badge back to him with a small smile. 

The Headmaster said nothing, but gave a low chuckle as he walked towards the door. Without another word, the door had closed behind him, leaving the three of them alone in the kitchen. 

"Hermione! ARE YOU MAD?" 

Harry's senses were still in limbo after what had just passed in the little kitchen, so he was not quick enough to grab hold of Ron before he stormed over to Hermione, gripping her roughly by the arms. 

"Ron! You're hurting me!" she whimpered, looking up at him in terror, tears springing from her eyes. 

"It'll hurt worse that this if you end up getting blasted to pieces by a Death Eater! What the HELL are you thinking?" 

"YOU'RE doing it!" she cried, trying to wrestle free of his tight hold. 

"HE SHOULDN'T HAVE DAMN WELL OFFERED IT TO YOU!" 

"It's MY decision, Ron, NOT yours!" 

"SO THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT, IS IT? TO SPEND YOUR LIFE ON THE RUN, AND END UP BEING TORTURED AND MUTILATED LIKE NEVILLE'S PARENTS, IF NOT WORSE? IS IT?" 

"WHY SHOULDN'T I DO IT IF YOU ARE?" Hermione yelled, through heavy sobs. "WHAT IS IT, RON? DO YOU THINK I'M INCAPABLE OF DOING THIS?" 

She winced as his fingers dug into her flesh, his knuckles whitening. 

Harry leapt forward, grabbing Ron's elbow. 

"RON! Stop it! Can't you see you're hurting her?" 

The tears were pouring steadily down Hermione's face, and her hands shook as they stopped their frantic struggling. Ron's wild temper abated as swiftly as it had risen, and he loosened his hold on her arms, letting his eyes drop to the ground between them. 

"No. I don't think you're incapable," he said, in a low voice full of emotion. "I'm just petrified that you'll treat this like another Charms essay or a Potions exam. You can't read books to get out of this one, 'Mione." 

She nodded calmly, sniffing slightly. "I know. But did you really think I'd let you two go without me, if I had the chance to be with you?" 

She smiled weakly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

Ron would deny it, of course, but Harry felt sure that it was taking a lot of self-control not to let water build up in his eyes just then. Suddenly Harry felt superfluous to requirements, and he edged towards the open back door as quietly as he could. 

***

He collapsed heavily into a chair on the patio, barely noticing the dark figure that sat in the shadows on the swing lounger. 

"Hey, mate." 

"Sirius?" 

His godfather leaned forward onto his knees, grinning. "Got fed up of Remus' military stratagems. Has anyone been killed?" 

Harry sniggered. "No. They're making up as we speak." 

"Yuck," replied Sirius, with a grimace. "Has he said anything to her yet?" 

"Nope. He's a slow git, that's for sure." 

"Maybe we should do it for him." The glint in Sirius' eye was particularly suggestive. 

"No way!" laughed Harry. "He can damn well get off his arse and do it himself." 

Sirius chuckled. 

The mood changed almost instantly. 

"Did he explain?" 

Harry nodded. 

"Need one ask what you said?" 

Harry shook his head with a small smile. 

"Excellent man," said Sirius, grinning ear to ear. "And no prizes for guessing what those two were rowing about." He nodded his head towards the kitchen, now ominously silent. 

Harry changed the subject as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Where's Dumbledore?" 

"Talking to some of the others. He's got to head back tonight as quickly as possible. Things need doing before The Order gathers the week after next." 

Harry stared. "Not till then?" 

"Well, it takes some preparation," replied Sirius, thoughtfully. "And we've got to watch our backs." 

Harry viewed his godfather suspiciously. "Are you about to tell me where the new HQ is?" 

Sirius grinned. "No. I was about to drop a subtle hint, actually. However, I think I'll save that for your birthday." 

Harry's spirits soared at the realisation that his party would be going ahead after all. "So you really are staying?" 

"Yup. Party and all. I hear Ginny's got something up her sleeve." 

Being caught completely off guard, it took all of ten seconds to come up with a casual response. He raised an eyebrow, hoping he looked unconcerned. "Yeah, she did mention it." 

Sirius' face broke into a handsome fusion of amusement and conjecture as he attempted to hold back a smile. "Harry, that was rubbish. You could at least be armed with suitable come-backs for whenever her name gets mentioned!" 

_Oh, bloody hell._

Harry let his eyelids flutter shut in despair. He might as well just wear a placard round his neck saying 'I really fancy Ginny Weasley. Kill me, kill me now.' 

"OK, go on, laugh," he muttered, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. 

Sirius made a strange noise that clearly indicated the difficulty he was having in keeping his laughter in check. 

"You look just like James did when Remus and I cornered him in the common room after one of his midnight excursions with Lily." 

Harry could not hold back a grin. 

"Oh yes? There were many of those, were there?" 

Sirius shrugged, leaning indolently back in the lounger. 

"That was the only time we caught them. To be honest, women was one of the few subjects the four of us rarely discussed but still understood in relation to each other. James never breathed a word to me about Lily, but it was so obvious how he felt it was like reading his mind. He couldn't keep a damned thing from me and Remus, and he knew it." Sirius smiled in nostalgic recollection. 

"What about you?" asked Harry, teasingly. "Dare one ask what you got up to?" 

"Not really," was the enigmatic reply. Sirius' eyes sparkled brightly. "I was never a one for the sort of thing James and Lil had going, let's just say." 

Harry laughed. It didn't surprise him, really. 

"And Lupin?" 

Sirius's eyes clouded over suddenly, though his lips remained curved in a sentimental smile. The pause between Harry's question and the answer was strangely poignant. 

"He had his moments," replied Sirius, blandly. "We all did." 

Harry said no more. He had the impression that he had touched on a sore subject in some way. Evidently there was something concealed behind those wide, dark eyes of Sirius' that he had no desire to speak of. Memories, as Harry knew well and could fully appreciate, were not always to be shared -


	20. Harry's Party, Part One The Eyes of t...

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

**_Harry's Party, Part One_**

**The Eyes of the Wolf**

It emerged during the following days that Ginny was not the only one with something up her sleeve. Suddenly Harry found himself walking into rooms in the midst of excited whispers which were hastily broken off with a great deal of unsubtle nudging. 

"You know, Hermione, you should really cultivate a less guilty expression for situations like this," Harry ventured to suggest on one of these occasions. He flopped into the chair opposite the sofa, on which the girls were sitting. "Ginny does it better than you." 

He smiled at the innocent gaze Ginny was directing at him, successfully concealing whatever she and Hermione had been talking of moments before. 

Hermione frowned. "I prefer not to make a habit of lying, Harry." 

"It's not lying," protested Ginny. "It's merely - not telling the truth." 

Harry's eyebrows rose. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as her twin brothers' often did when they were plotting something. He had never been on the receiving end of her machinations before, and he only knew from others how conniving this outwardly sweet, righteous girl could be. 

That was another aspect of her personality that fascinated him, simply because he had spent so many years thinking of her as 'Ron's little sister', who blushed when he spoke to her and avoided catching his eye at all costs. Now, suddenly, she had become something so entirely different that Harry's new personal ambition had become to find out everything there was to know about Ginny Weasley, no matter how long it took. If he was astonishingly lucky, there might come a prolonged opportunity in the future to do just that. 

For the time being, however, Harry was content to hold his breath. He had six, well, maybe five, well-built, protective brothers to get through before he could even contemplate speaking to Ginny about how he felt. 

_But still -_

__At the back of his mind something objected. Something curiously primitive which reminded Harry that he was not as incapable as Ginny's brothers might believe. Until that moment, Harry would have agreed every time that his very presence in her life put her in danger, and the closer they became, the greater the danger. But that conversation with Dumbledore - 

The Headmaster had practically handed over to Harry the means of independence and self-protection. Surely if that was enough for him, it could be enough for Ginny too - 

Harry shook his head. It was absurd to be thinking as though Ginny was already his. She might never be. It seemed pointless torture to imagine life without her, but equally pointless torture to imagine life with her. Either way, at least one of them would suffer, and Harry would rather be the one any day than let Ginny bear the burden. 

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice was hesitant but determined. 

"Hmm?" 

"Did you manage to talk to Remus?" 

"About what?" 

"Don't pretend you don't know." 

Harry moved his eyes from one to the other, wondering whether he ought to leave and let them get on with whatever they were talking about. _Remus? Since when had Lupin been _Remus_?_

Hermione shifted awkwardly. "I may have casually brought up the subject," she replied, with a furtive glance at Harry. 

"What did he say?" 

"He would think about it." 

Ginny waited expectantly. "And?" 

Hermione shrugged. "That was all. He said he'd think about it and mention it to Dumbledore if he felt it was a good idea." 

Ginny appeared far less than contented, so Harry hesitantly inquired what the matter was. Despite Hermione's urgent attempts to communicate a warning, Ginny launched into an explanation. 

"Sirius has been talking to Professor Dumbledore about what I did for Charlie the night he was attacked. He told me that Dumbledore feels I might be helpful, in a medical capacity." 

Harry frowned. "Helpful to who, exactly?" He had a nasty feeling what the answer was going to be. 

"He didn't say," replied Hermione, cutting Ginny's response off before she could utter a word, "but I think we can all guess." 

"Please, don't tell Ron, Harry!" said Ginny, urgently. "He'd hit the roof." 

"I'm not surprised!" exclaimed Harry, eyes wide. "God knows what Dumbledore's planning on doing! If he means you to become involved with The Order then he's mad!" 

Ginny stared at him. "Thanks, Harry. Nice to know I've got your confidence." 

_Damn. Damn it all to hell!_

"I didn't mean it like that, Gin." 

She didn't reply, but averted her eyes. Harry made a mental note to beat his head against a brick wall later that night. 

"I've been trying to tell her the same thing," said Hermione, seriously. "But I suppose neither of us, nor Ron, has the right to suggest any such thing, considering what we've got ourselves into." 

"My point exactly," insisted Ginny. "I'm not going to be in any danger." 

"Can you know that for sure?" asked Harry, almost before she had finished speaking. 

"No," she replied. "But I'm not afraid. Anyway, I don't even know what Dumbledore means to do. I - oh, the hell with it!" 

She jumped to her feet and made a swift exit through the door, letting it bang rather loudly behind her. 

"Ooops," said Hermione, regretfully. "Oh, good grief, Harry! That was practically the same lecture that Ron gave me." 

Harry shook his head, massaging his temples. "Yeah, thanks for pointing that out, 'Mione." 

"But it is rather unfair, don't you think, that the three of us should be involved and Ginny not? After all, she's the one who's kept this house together over the past week!" 

"Look, Hermione. Pick an argument and stick to it!" 

He regretted his sharpness immediately. 

Hermione viewed him thoughtfully for a moment or two, and then she leaned forward. "Harry, don't do what Ron did, for Merlin's sake. I was afraid you'd say something like that if she told you, that's why I didn't want her to mention it. I thought you might say the same as Ron. That boy is as subtle as a steamroller, and about as tactful." She smiled, and squeezed Harry's wrist. "He's not like Ginny as a rule, but the pair of them are as obstinate as each other. Promise me that you won't mention any of this to her again." 

Harry smiled back. "Why? For her sake or mine?" 

"Both. The last thing we need is another row." 

If he had been in any doubt before, that comment settled the matter. Hermione could read his mind. 

"It's OK, I'll be good," he said, trying to lighten the mood. 

Hermione nodded in satisfaction. "Excellent. We want tomorrow night to go smoothly, don't we?" 

*** 

Embarrassment was one of the things Harry felt he could safely admit to knowing a great deal about. His name emerging from the flames of the Goblet of Fire to be greeted by suspicion and mistrust, from friends and foes alike. Asking Cho to the Yule Ball. Dancing the first dance with Parvati. Crying in Mrs Weasley arms after the Third Task - 

He had believed that his days of blushing and shifting in awkward self-consciousness were long gone - until he and Ron wandered into the kitchen the next day to be faced with an enormous, luxurious breakfast feast and a pile of birthday presents, not to mention the great crowd of people stuffed around the table clapping and grinning. 

The amount of food consumed between eight and three was so vast that dinner seemed a pointless expense. At noon, Mrs Weasley came out onto the patio with the largest cake Harry had ever seen. He stared at it in astonishment. The plain green base was normal enough, but on the top Mrs Weasley had created a masterpiece of culinary wizardry. Three long hoops rose several inches high at either end, and between them, around the perimeter, were tall stands made of marzipan, complete with edible spectators. But most astonishingly of all were the floating figures on broomsticks that moved in mid-air between the hoops, tossing little balls from one to the other in so life-like a way that Harry was struck dumb with wonder. 

"Oh, look, Harry!" cried Hermione, pointing to one particular figure in the red robes of Gryffindor. "It's you!" 

Harry reached out a hand and caught the little icing version of himself and stared at it for a moment or two, until a tiny ball the size of a pea hit him on the edge of his thumb. It was a perfect miniature Bludger, and almost as violent as its larger counterpart. 

The exquisite creation was praised so highly by everyone, that Mrs Weasley was forced to retire to the kitchen, blushing the colour of her hair. Nobody wanted to eat it, and it provided several hours of entertainment before the spell started to wear off and the animated figures flop lazily onto the smooth base of the cake. 

The lawn was covered in idle bodies, all stretched out in the sunshine. 

"Hell, I'm stuffed!" groaned Fred, clutching his stomach. 

"You eat too fast," said Alicia, poking him in the ribs with her toe. 

Sirius, from his seat on the patio steps beside Lupin, gave a low chuckle. 

"Dance it off later," he suggested, tossing a grape stem at Fred's recumbent form. "How are the music plans going, Gin?" 

Ginny's bright eyes sparkled, and she glanced at Hermione, her co-conspirator. "Excellently, thankyou. You're in for an interesting evening." 

She caught Harry's eye and smiled radiantly, making his blood rush ten times faster round his body. He smiled back, as calmly as he could manage. He had been waiting for something for over twenty-four hours - a look, and word, anything, to show she had forgiven him for his insensitive remark the day before. Hermione was right. Another row would be the final nail in the coffin. 

The girls continued to chat until supper time about the usual things. Since it was only family and close friends, no-one was planning on dressing up for the occasion. Not much anyway. 

"Why do girls like shiny things so much?" asked Ron, thoughtfully, as Fleur and Angelina launched into a debate about diamonds over pearls. 

Ginny laughed. "Why do boys like sitting on thin pieces of wood and hitting balls around?" 

"Um, excuse me?" Harry rolled onto his side to face her. "Was that a derogatory comment, Gin?" 

She poked her tongue out at him, playfully. "Maybe I'll tell you one day." She held his gaze for a moment, and then tugged at Hermione's hand. "Come on, you. We've got work to do. Will somebody please remove Harry for half an hour?" 

Harry grinned. He was enjoying this probably more than was good for him. 

"I'm sure we can think of something," said George, with a particularly wicked glint in his eye. He winked at Harry. 

"Yeah, whatever you're thinking, pal, forget it!" suggested Harry, shuffling his supine body backwards a little. 

To no avail. The twins hurled themselves in his direction, both laughing evilly. 

"Hey, gerrof you damned great gits!" yelled Harry, struggling against various disabling locks and holds. 

Laughter followed them all the way across the lawn. 

"Hey, Harry!" called Ginny. She was standing beside Hermione, her arms crossed over her stomach. 

"What?" 

"Don't get hurt!" 

Harry poked his tongue out at her. 

*** 

Ginny viewed herself critically in the mirror. 

"My legs are too short." 

Hermione sighed, and then gave a lyrical laugh. "Nonsense. You look beautiful." 

Ginny smiled her appreciation, but gazed doubtfully at her reflection in the glass. 

She was wearing a white halter-neck top which plunged from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine revealing her smooth, brown skin. The silky chiffon material clung attractively to every curve and contour without overdoing the skin exposure at the front. 

"You don't think it's too much, do you?" she asked, anxiously. 

Hermione giggled. "I should have thought the question would be 'You don't think it's too little?', actually. No, Gin, it's fine. It's high at the front and low at the back, and you've got a beautiful tan. Show it off!" 

"Is the skirt too short?" 

She frowned as she examined the hem-line. 

"Ginny," began Hermione, in the tone of voice that betrayed both fond exasperation and amusement. "Relax." She took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "What's the matter with you tonight?" 

Ginny shrugged, and drew Hermione into a warm hug. "Nervous, I guess." 

"Me too." 

"It'll be fine, I know it will." 

"OK, if it all goes horribly wrong, I'm blaming you." 

*** 

Harry was not amused. More than that - he was extremely annoyed. 

"I'm going to kill them!" 

Ron rolled his eyes. "That's the seventh time you've said that in twenty minutes." He reached down to the floor, and groped around under his bed. "Can't find - me damned - shoe - " 

Harry threw it at him obligingly. 

"Hey, quit with the attitude, Potter!" 

The expression on Ron's face was so uncharacteristic that Harry burst out laughing. Ron stared at him as though he had gone insane. He opened his mouth to say something but evidently thought better of it, and turned away to collect the rest of his clothes. 

"You're a strange man, Harry," he said, fastening around his wrist the watch Harry had got him last Christmas. "Ready to go?" 

"As I'll ever be." Harry got to his feet and followed Ron out of the door, newly unhexed in honour of Harry's birthday. 

*** 

Perhaps it was the clinking of glasses and the laughter of good friends that made Harry's mouth curve into a happy smile as he and Ron walked across the patio. Or maybe the colourful lanterns that hung suspended in mid-air all around the garden, or the tableful of nibbles that stood beside the swing lounger crying out to be devoured. 

Of course, it could just have been the moonlight and the warm air, the best company and Mrs Weasley's finest wine. 

"Harry!" squealed Hermione, running as best she could in stiletto heels towards him. A pair of warm arms flung themselves around his neck. 

"Hey, 'Mione. Nice to see you too!" 

"They didn't kill you?" 

Harry frowned. "No, but if I ever see either of them again, they'll be the dead ones." 

"Eight," muttered Ron, under his breath. Harry elbowed him in the chest. 

"What did they do to you?" asked Hermione, cheerfully. 

"Locked me in the garage, among other things," replied Harry, dryly. 

"Nice." 

Harry nodded sarcastically. 

"OK then, where's this terrific surprise of Ginny's?" asked Ron, surreptitiously reaching for a glass of wine behind Harry's back. 

"Patience," said Hermione, with a wink. 

Ron stared in surprise, and continued to stare as Hermione tripped away towards the back of the house. 

"Don't like the sound of that, mate," he said, in a low voice. 

Harry smiled as he tipped up his glass to take a sip. He took the opportunity to glance around the assembled collection of people. Mrs Weasley was pouring more wine with Alicia's and Angelina's assistance; Mr Weasley was conjuring more lanterns at the far corner of the lawn, while Percy viewed his progress with critical scepticism; Bill and Fleur were standing a little way away, very close, both with glasses in their hands, chatting lightly with tender smiles on their faces. Sirius and Lupin were walking briskly through the little avenue of trees lit by candles floating several inches above ground level. They were talking rather intensely, which made Harry watch them suspiciously for a moment or two, until his godfather gave him a light-hearted wave and a grin. 

"Hey, look out," said Ron, nudging him suddenly. They both moved aside as Ginny and Fred came through the kitchen door, each supporting one of Charlie's arms. 

He had awoken from his coma two days earlier, and was able to verify Mr Weasley's theory of what had occurred on the night they had found him in the kitchen. Unfortunately, his attackers had been robed and hidden in darkness, so he was unable to identify them. There could be no doubt as to why they had been sent to do him harm, though, nor from whom they had come. 

"Careful, my dear!" said Mrs Weasley, pulling out a chair and instructing Ginny and Fred to guide him to it. 

"I'm OK, Mum, stop fussing!" protested Charlie, irritably pushing aside her hands, which were smoothing the sling that supported his injured arm. 

He had regained some of his colour, and Ginny assured everyone that there was no danger for him as long as he kept quiet and didn't move much for a day or two. 

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" he said, with a grin. 

Harry smiled, more out of relief to see some of his old cheerfulness and vitality than out of gratitude. 

It was then that he saw Ginny. 

His heart stopped. Oddly enough, his temples and throat were throbbing as blood pumped madly through his veins. His stomach had also appeared to have sunk into oblivion. 

She had tied her hair loosely into a chignon, revealing vast expanses of beautiful golden skin across her back, as smooth as rippleless water, descending into curves that Harry dared not think about. At least not at that particular moment. 

Her slim legs seemed to go on forever, from the hem of her skirt, daringly short, right down to the tall heels she wore. However many other thoughts and considerations had blissfully slipped his mind, he knew for sure that if he ever tore his eyes away from her he would surely die and shrivel up into nothing. 

_Focus, Potter._

"Happy Birthday, Harry," she said, walking gracefully towards him, her lips parted in a smile. Before he could form a reply, she had leaned towards him and pressed a light kiss on his cheek. 

_Oh dear God!_

"Thanks," he said, forcing himself to wait a few seconds before speaking, so as to compose a tone which would not set warning bells off in Ron's head. 

"I've got to disappear for a moment," she announced, allowing Ron to give her a swift hug in one arm. "The musical element, you see." She winked at Harry, and retraced her steps across the patio and behind the house as Hermione had done. 

Shaking his head, he turned to look at Ron, who was equally bemused. 

"What is with them tonight?" he muttered. 

The faint outlines of two figures, one half a head taller than the other, slipped through the shadows on the far side of the candle-lit avenue, heading for the riverbank. Bill and Fleur. 

"Aye aye," said Ron, with an amused chuckle. "He's a lucky man." 

"Ron! Behave yourself!" ordered Mrs Weasley, poking him in the back as she bustled past. 

Harry sniggered into his glass, and heard a splash and a hiss of breath which indicated Ron was doing the same. He doubted that they'd see Bill again for an hour or so. 

Mr Weasley managed to harass Ron into helping him with something, giving Harry the opportunity to go over to Sirius by the avenue and enquire what was going on. 

"You two look damned furtive over here," he said, sternly. "What's the matter?" 

His godfather exchanged thoughtful glances with Lupin, and then turned to Harry. 

"OK - since Gin and Hermione were going to all that trouble over arranging tonight, we thought we'd do our bit as well." He smiled as Harry's eyebrow rose. "We thought we'd do our best to round up the gang." 

"Gang?" 

Lupin intervened. "What he means is - since everyone at the Ministry is busy working out what the hell to do about you, among other things, we thought they should make a point of - um - observing you in the field, shall we say?" 

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean - Tonks and Kingsley and Mundungus and all?" 

Sirius nodded. "Give Mad-Eye half an hour to arrange the cover and check for spies and imposters and conjure security spells and survey the scene and - " 

"They'll be here soon," said Lupin, his unusual green-gold eyes shining in the ethereal light. He tossed sinuous strands of burnt almond hair out of his line of vision, which promptly fell straight back again. 

Harry thought that at that moment he would have seen straight through Lupin's carefully guarded secret had he not already known of it. It was there in those dark orbs, a darker, wilder green than Harry's own, with flecks of amber that became the dominant colour as the full moon drew closer. The cool silver reflected in those shrewd and mystifying pools, revealed in their depths a primal fever, wild and untamed - the lupine eyes of the wolf. Framed by waves of wayward chestnut hair, they seemed more than ever like windows into the soul of both man and beast. 

Stunned by the hypnotic trance he was being slowly drawn into, Harry narrowed his eyes. Never before had such energy simmered in Lupin's persona. Never had Harry encountered any such burning intensity in man or woman. Lupin was perhaps the last man on earth he would have supposed could summon up such entrancing enigmas. There had been a time when his hair had hung limply across the back of his head, his grey eyes dulled and limpid. Tattered robes and weary movements were the trademarks of the DADA Professor of his third year, a figure which the past had claimed and sucked into oblivion. 

What had invoked this change so suddenly? Was this even the same man who had sat with them in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place two years before? Secrets and mysteries, untouchable and unique, seethed and smouldered inside him in a frenzied mass powered by creation itself. 

Those curious words of Sirius' came back to Harry, as he tore his gaze away: "He had his moments. We all did." 

Sirius nudged him, and Harry, conquering the unnerved turbulence in his head, glanced in the direction his godfather indicated. 

Soft notes of blissful music had started to float through the air from a corner of the patio, shrouded in amber shadow. 

Straining his eyes, Harry saw three violins being stroked with bows held by invisible fingers. A flute beside them was playing the same notes, without a player blowing into it. Other instruments, evidently enchanted to play alone, were arranged below a canopy of soft lanterns and Mr Weasley's moonflowers. 

Harry edged closer, with Sirius and Lupin behind him, until he came to stop beside Ron and the twins. 

"Is this Ginny's surprise?" he asked. 

Ron shrugged. 

A figure stood in shadow just in front of the magical orchestra, and soon a sweet, mellifluous voice joined the beautiful musical compound. The song was something about a girl lamenting the loss of a man - the typical sentimental drivel of modern Muggles. Harry wondered who was singing. Had Ginny engaged somebody to come especially? 

The light shifted, revealing first a pair of stiletto sandals and brown legs, then the hem of a short black and white dress patterned rather like the Chinese yin and yang symbol. 

Harry recognised that dress. 

And so did Ron. 

_Hermione._


	21. Harry's Party, Part Two Seeing Firework...

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**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

**_Harry's Party, Part Two_**

**Seeing Fireworks**

Harry felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned his head. 

Ginny stood behind him, smiling widely. 

"I thought we'd keep the night on a personal level," she said, draping her arm through his. 

"Why did she never tell us she could sing like that?" demanded Ron. Harry smiled at his wide-eyed admiration. 

Ginny shrugged. "You never asked." 

They listened in astonished pleasure for a minute or two, until a sudden commotion near the patio caused them to look away from Hermione just as the song drew to a close. 

"I'm sorry, Molly!" cried a tall girl with fuschia pink hair. She pulled out a wand and muttered a spell, and the shards of glass that littered the floor reassembled into glasses on the table again. 

"TONKS!" squealed Ginny, so loudly that Harry thought his head had been pierced through the ears with a sharp instrument. 

"GINNY! HARRY! Hello, people! HERMIONE! I heard your voice all the way from the river!" 

Tonks charged down the steps, almost falling over Fred and Angelina sitting on the steps. Behind her, chatting with Mrs Weasley, were three very curious looking figures. One of them was an aging man with a bent back and a wooden leg, not to mention an eerie glass eye that swirled hideously in its socket. Beside Mad-Eye, a tall dark-skinned man with sparkling white teeth waved excitably at Harry, almost knocking over the becloaked and befuddled figure on his right hand side. 

Tonks talked and talked for what seemed like hours - mostly to Ginny and Hermione - giving Harry the chance to join his godfather and Lupin who had moved to greet the three newcomers. 

"Damned tricky business, Sirius," muttered Moody, his eye spinning in agitation. 

"Ssh! Keep your voice down, you idiot!" hissed Sirius, casting a quick glance around the garden. 

"Don't call me an idiot, boy!" 

"Listen," interrupted Lupin, taking a practical command of the situation as usual. "Can the pair of you stop arguing for a minute, please?" 

Sirius stared at him. "Remus, for God's sake - " 

"Shut UP! Harry's behind you." 

Sirius span round and attempted to look innocent. Harry frowned at all five of them. 

"OK, what's going on?" 

"Nothing!" replied Sirius, in an overly light-hearted tone. 

"Don't lie to me," said Harry, grimly. "You lot are plotting something." 

"Harry, if we were plotting something we wouldn't be discussing it in the middle of a crowded garden, would we?" 

Ginny's enchanted orchestra had begun playing again, and a peal of girlish laughter stole Harry's attention for a moment. 

Fleur, Ginny and Hermione were standing in a little group under the lanterns on the patio. In the light of the half moon and the candles along the avenue, the garden had taken on an otherworldly feel. The three laughing girls looked like they had just stepped out of a fantasy painting - one tall and blonde like the elegant Californian models; one petite and dark, her size belying her powerful, tempestuous nature; the other slender and fiery, bright-eyed and perfect in every way - 

Determined not to fall into the same trap as he had a few nights earlier, Harry returned his attentions back to his godfather and his co-conspirators. Only Lupin stood there now, the others having made a swift departure while Harry's eyes had been averted. 

"Will you explain?" Harry asked, without much hope. 

Lupin's emerald eyes shone fiercely in the moonlight, narrowing slightly as he considered his options. 

"On the condition that you don't breathe a word to a soul." 

Harry nodded. 

"There was slightly more to Charlie's attack than met the eye. It was true that he was tracked in the hope of leading Voldemort's followers to The Burrow, where it is well known that a large group of Dumbledore's supporters live, including at the present time, you. The security spells we placed before the attack were sufficient to hide The Burrow not only from the eyes of Muggles, but also Wizards. Did you not wonder why Angelina and Alicia and Lee arrived in the middle of a rainstorm without warning? They had probably been wandering across the area for hours before they found the house. Presumably someone at the Ministry lifted the cover briefly, for some reason or another, allowing them to find the front door." 

Harry frowned as he attempted to process the information. 

"We have discovered that Charlie was attacked long before he reached The Burrow. He had Apparated from Moscow to London with the rest of us, but there we all split up for different duties. Bill intended to go out into Diagon Alley to replenish supplies. Sirius and I came straight back to Godric's Hollow. The others had various things to attend to, and I supposed, as we all did, that Charlie would wait for his brother before going on to The Burrow. There was no cover for Apparation, so it was going to have to be a broomstick job. Apparently that was what he meant to do, but certain things occurred that made it imperative that he left for home immediately." 

"What things?" 

"It's hard to explain. Let's just say that the enemy is slightly more clever than we imagined. It was a trick, of course. One Weasley brother would be easier to get rid of than two once he had led them to The Burrow. Luckily for Charlie, they underestimated him. He realised he had been fooled about half way between London and here. He tried to double-back but there were too many of them. He managed to land before he fell, but they were too quick, and he barely got away. God knows how he managed to get as far as the house before he collapsed. I'm amazed he survived at all!" 

He paused for a moment, and watched Harry's facial response. 

"Why did no-one explain this before?" Harry asked. A rising swell of indignation was threatening to make itself known in no uncertain terms very shortly. 

Lupin sighed painfully. Evidently it had been a matter of debate among the Order members which had caused a good deal of dissension. 

"Partly because we didn't want to spoil your birthday," he replied. "And partly because of - something else." 

Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly. 

"All right, listen to me, Harry. You're not going to like this, but I'm afraid that's tough. For a start, until you are back at Hogwarts you are still in danger. Less so than before, but there is still a risk that a similar stunt to the one Charlie suffered could be pulled by the Death Eaters between now and next week when you head back to school. Once you're at Hogwarts, they don't stand a chance in hell of getting at you, so they're going to try whatever they can to get you out of the way beforehand. Do you understand me?" 

Harry stared back skeptically. "What about those security spells you strengthened?" 

Lupin shook his dark head. "They can stand up to so much, but God knows what they'll try now Charlie has foiled them. That's partly why we're all here tonight. To make sure your night goes according to plan." 

Harry felt himself torn between a desire to shake the damned man until his teeth fell out, and a curious desire to laugh. The latter prevailed. 

"I appreciate the way you put that," he said, with a smile. "Thanks for being so - um - tactful. I doubt Sirius would have bothered." 

Lupin grinned. "He's an idiot, but he means well." 

"I know." 

They stood in thoughtful silence for a few seconds, until Lupin nodded towards the patio. "They're dancing," he said, his eyes shining mischievously. "Go have fun, Harry. It might be your last chance." 

*** 

It was getting on for midnight, and Harry hadn't had Ginny to himself at all. Not that he had any reason to expect he might, but still - 

She was dancing with Sirius in the centre of the space that had been cleared beside the orchestra for that very purpose. It was all Harry could do to keep himself from staring at her as she moved to the music. 

"Hey, Harry." Hermione flopped onto the step beside him, brushing loose tendrils of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks were flushed from dancing, and her eyes were sparkling with unusual fervour. 

"How much have you had to drink, 'Mione?" he asked, cheekily. 

"Not much! Kingsley is a very fast dancer, and so are the twins! My feet are killing me." 

The music changed abruptly to a lugubrious waltz. Harry and Hermione laughed as they watched George and Alicia attempting to jazz up the proceedings by inventing several violent spins and whirls every few steps. 

"Haven't they tried to hex the orchestra yet?" whispered Hermione, eyeing the double-bass with suspicion. 

"That is an excellent idea, Hermione, thankyou!" 

Hermione groaned as she turned to see Fred beaming at her, his wand twirling eagerly in his fingers. 

"Don't you dare! Ginny will eat you alive!" 

"Who will I eat alive?" 

Ginny appeared beside Harry out of nowhere, and settled onto the step next to him. 

"Silly question, little sister," said Fred, as he scampered off to find George. Angelina rolled her eyes before following. 

"If they do anything, I will personally chain them to the ceiling," Ginny muttered. She raised her hand and beckoned Ron to join them. 

"You're being boring, Ron," she declared. "Why don't you dance?" 

"Um, well, let's think - possibly because I'm RUBBISH!" 

"You're not so bad," acceded Ginny, nudging Hermione slightly under the pretence of shifting her position on the step. 

Ron's cheeks took on a pink flush, and he looked everywhere except at Hermione. Ginny smiled at Harry and raised her eyes heavenward. 

Harry took the hint, with rather more eagerness than perhaps he ought. Co-incidentally, the hideous waltz music had been replaced by something rather more modern, with a conveniently slow beat. 

"Come on, Gin. If Mohammed won't go to the mountain - " 

Leaving Ron looking thoroughly confused, and Hermione blushing the colour of raspberries, he took Ginny by the hand and pulled her up to the patio. 

He had been waiting all night for an excuse to ask her to dance, but somehow the opportunity never arose. No, that was a lie. He had had dozens of opportunities, but he'd been to damned scared to ask her. Merlin, and he was supposed to be starting military training in less than a fortnight! 

She felt deliciously warm as he wrapped an arm round her, and her soft skin moulded perfectly against him. A pair of hands placed themselves at the nape of his neck, and before long her fingers were idly twisting strands of his hair around themselves as she hummed the song that was playing. 

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she asked, gazing up at him. The sight of her bright, chocolate eyes reflecting the glow of the lanterns, staring into his with unconcealed trust and affection, gave Harry the sensation of melting bones. He hoped he wasn't blushing, but the light was so dim that she probably wouldn't have noticed anyway. 

"Very much so," he replied, trying to control the desire to caress the skin of her bare back with his fingers. She felt like silk, and her scent was intoxicating. Involuntarily, or so he assumed at the time, she moved a little closer, deepening the contact between them. His breath stirred the red hair above her ears, she was so near. He could even feel the occasional pressure of her thigh against his - 

_I am never, never going to be able to sleep at night ever again._

The music went on for a little longer, with Ginny's head falling gradually against the curve of his shoulder. As the last notes died away, she turned her head to look up at him. At some point during the course of the song, one of her hands had become entwined with one of his, and she showed no inclination to remove it. 

Their cunning plan to leave Ron and Hermione alone together forgotten, they wandered slowly, hand in hand, towards the candle-lit avenue. 

"It's a beautiful night," she said, softly, as they came to a standstill at a distance from the activity near the patio. He followed her gaze upwards into the sky, glittering with stars, and then returned his eyes to her face. 

"Mm," he said, taking a step closer to her. 

She smiled dazzlingly. "Do you think he's said anything?" 

"Who?" 

"Ron, you fool." 

She took a step foward, and placed a slender hand on his chest, just below his throat. 

"Oh," rasped Harry, letting one of his arms circle her slim waist and draw her against him. "I doubt it." 

"Me too." 

His head was bending downwards, and she lifted hers to meet him. He let his fingers brush across the small of her back, enjoying the shiver that passed through her at his touch. 

"Happy Birthday, Harry," she whispered. Her breath bounced against his lips. 

He smiled, and leaned in - 

An explosion above them made them jerk their heads upwards in shock. Brilliant colours sparkled and twirled in the sky over the house and garden, raining sparkles over the crowd like flakes of snow. The noise was astonishing. 

Their eyes met for the briefest of moments. Her cheeks were deeply flushed. 

"Hey, you two!" yelled Ron from the lawn. His expression was thundery, but Hermione's presence just behind him prevented an outcry of indignation and anger. "Get the hell over here NOW!" 

Harry saw no way out. He didn't want to leave it like that. He didn't want to let her go. 

_Dear God! I almost just kissed Ginny Weasley!!_


	22. Twice Frustrated Love

**Hello again! The customary mucho mucho thanks to everyone who has left me reviews! They really make my day!!!**

**Here's the next installment - hope you like!! It is dedicated to my dear friend Ellie (Loveday Goodchild), for whom I wrote the distinctly adjectival description of Snape, to be found towards the end of this chapter ;-)**

**xxx**

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**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO**

**Twice Frustrated Love**

Harry leaned his hot forehead against one of the pillars on the terrace. It was beautifully cool. The wind blew against his skin with a healing force that calmed him inside. 

The garden was deserted, and deathly quiet. He looked at his watch. Three o'clock. 

"You all right, Harry?" 

He turned round swiftly, to see Hermione leaning in the kitchen doorway. She was in her pyjamas, and her expression was grim and sympathetic simultaneously. 

"Yes." 

"Thinking?" 

"Yes." 

She paused for a moment, and gradually made her way across the patio towards him. She leaned her elbows on the wall and followed his gaze across the lawn to the dark avenue. 

"You moved too quick, didn't you?" 

Harry's stomach jolted in surprise. "What?" He turned his head sharply. 

"Ginny," replied Hermione, simply. 

"How the hell do you know?" 

Hermione smiled. "Feminine intuition," she answered, calmly. "And the look on your faces when Ron and I found you. What happened?" 

Harry saw no sense in lying his way out of this one. He had been completely candid with Bill, and Sirius had required no explanation. In fact, the latter had implied that he was as transparent as his father had been. 

"I almost kissed her," he said, softly, staring fixedly at a spot some distance away. 

"Why didn't you?" 

Harry glanced at her in wonder. He hadn't expected that. 

He shrugged. "The twins set off their fireworks, and then you and Ron arrived." A wave of emotion threatened to overpower his automatic reticence. Suddenly he saw Hermione in a new light. Here was someone whom he could trust. Someone who knew him and understood him, and who was by all appearances going through similar feelings to his own. "Oh God, what the hell was I thinking? That look in her eyes. She wasn't angry with me. It was like - oh, I don't even know! I didn't understand it! Why am I feeling like this? Why does it hurt so badly? After so long - " 

"Because we're not the same people we once were, Harry," replied Hermione, gently. "We've grown up - perhaps too quickly, considering all we've been through. Not many other teenagers have seen what you and Ron and I have seen. You grow fond of friends. So gradually that you don't notice it turning into love. Until it's too late and you're in so deep you can't get yourself back out again." 

Harry was dumbstruck. His mind reeled with the realisation that she had put into words exactly what had been happening inside him during the past weeks. Months, probably, if he looked back hard enough. Not only that, but her feminine intuition, as excellent as it might be, could not have created that explanation out of thin air. 

"Ron?" 

"I didn't say that." She did not prickle up at the introduction of his name, nor did she blush or drop her eyes. Swiftly, she changed the subject. "What was Remus saying tonight?" 

"Yeah, what's with this 'Remus' thing all of a sudden? He was Lupin in third year." 

Hermione shot him a sardonic look. "Do we ever call Sirius 'Black'? Besides, he asked us to." 

"Who's us?" 

"Merlin, Harry, you're sounding like a jealous boyfriend!" 

"I'm not jealous! Neither am I a boyfriend." 

"Yet." 

Harry felt his stomach jolt again, and rounded on her immediately. "What?" 

"Oh, for goodness sake, Harry!" she cried, raising herself to her full height, which was not very much, and glaring at him with flashing eyes. "Can't you see how serious this is? You men are just hopeless at seeing the painfully obvious! Ginny is mad about you. Ginny has always been mad about you. This isn't just some silly crush she had on you in her first year! This is the real thing, Harry - for her and for you. For God's sake don't mess it up, this could be your only chance to make things work." 

Harry could only stare in astonishment as she gesticulated and paced in agitation 

"Hermione - calm down!" he managed to say, tentatively putting his hands on her shoulders through her wildly flailing arms. He gave her a firm shake to silence her. "Why are you so bothered about what happens between me and Gin?" 

Hermione pouted and looked sulky. "You're my friends, for a start!" she retorted, wriggling free of his grasp. 

"This is so not about me and Gin, 'Mione, is it? It IS Ron, isn't it?" 

She had turned her back to him, and had resumed her pacing. "NO!" she cried, giving him a half glance over her shoulder. "Ron - " She broke off and swallowed. "Ron can jump off a cliff!" 

She stormed back inside, leaving Harry repeatedly blinking in confusion. 

*** 

Surreal. 

There was no other word to describe the car journey to London a week later. 

Mr Weasley was driving, and in all honesty, he was rather bad at it for a start. Every few miles he would spot something of tremendous interest and stare excitedly out of the side window, swerving the car across the road. Assisting matters not at all were Fred and George, who had insisted on accompanying the party to the station, for reasons as yet unknown. Bill had promised to Apparate later to say goodbye when he was sure Charlie was able to fend for himself for half an hour, Percy being of no use whatsoever stuffed into his bedroom drowning his connubial woes in paperwork. 

"Muuuuum?" 

"Yes, Ginny?" 

"Are we nearly there yet?" 

"That's the sixth time in an hour, Ginny. Please stop whining." 

Ginny winked at Harry, and arranged a look of pure innocence on her brown face. 

Harry shifted as best he could, crammed in the back seat between Hermione and Ron. This was a rather hellish feeling, really. He had started to believe that the night of his party had been either a dream or an inebriated moment of abstraction for both of them. But then, they hadn't technically done anything - 

_No_ - interrupted a little voice in his head - _only gazed at her with passionate abandon with your lips two thirds of a millimetre away from hers!_

_Oh, dear God. Why won't she say anything? _

But no - not even a stammering 'um - Harry - about the other night - ?'. Was she doing this on purpose, or had she not even noticed what had been going on? 

_I'm confused_, wailed the voice. 

More confusing still, however, was the peculiar behaviour of Ron and Hermione. He couldn't tell whether they were angry with each other or not, which was very unusual, but a frosty atmosphere indicated something was awry. 

"Hey, Harry," hissed Fred, turning his neck to peer over the back of his seat. "You remember the You-Know-What we gave you in your third year?" 

Harry nodded suspiciously. 

"Have you got it safe?" 

Oh, if they only knew the truth! He nodded again, biting back a smile. 

"Well, use it wisely this year, laddie. You're going to need all the help you can get." He winked, looking frighteningly like Ginny, and turned back again. 

Great - more confusion. 

*** 

The platform was chaotic as usual, scattered liberally with multicoloured garments and small people rushing into each other's arms or tearing blindly through the crowds to say their goodbyes. 

Ron snapped at a second year boy who collided with his shoulder as he bent to lower Pigwidgeon's cage to the floor, watching unrepentantly as the boy cringed away into the shadows, red with embarrassment. Hermione scowled, but wisely kept her mouth shut. 

Mrs Weasley fell sobbing into Ginny's arms and had to be forcibly removed as carriage doors began to slam. 

"Oh, my dears! You will be careful, won't you?" she sniffed, grasping each of them in turn. "When I think, goodness knows when I'll see you all again!" 

"For heaven's sake, Molly, you'll see them next summer!" grumbled Mr Weasley, placing a firm hand under her arm to hold her back. He passed her to the twins to make his own farewells. 

"Good luck, boys," he said, fondly. "Keep your heads down and your ears open and you won't go wrong. That goes for you too, Hermione. And no trying to juggle training with school work, all right? I know that you will if they don't stop you." 

Harry felt quite ashamed to admit that the thought had not crossed his mind. 

He automatically held out his hand to help Ginny into the train first, placing it firmly under her elbow. She turned to smile at him gratefully, her blazing curls bouncing glamorously around her neck and shoulders. Harry felt Hermione poke him in the ribs, and he hastily ascended the steps.

"Bill didn't come!" sighed Ginny, as they settled into an empty compartment. She flopped into a window seat, and gazed out hopefully into the mass of parents and siblings. 

Mr and Mrs Weasley were not hard to locate. They were the ones standing in front of two hyperactive young men who were making questionable hand gestures and pulling faces. 

They waved as the train started to pull out, and continued until they were well out of the station. 

"Ron - you've got dirt on your nose." 

"I seem to remember that was the first thing you ever said to me." 

"No - the first thing I ever said to you was 'have you seen a toad?'." 

Ron stared sideways at her. "You can remember that?" 

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the book she had open on her lap. "And the first thing you ever said to me was 'we've already told him we haven't seen it'." 

Harry smiled at Ron's face as he absent-mindedly rubbed his nose. 

"You missed it totally." 

"How do you know? You weren't even looking!" 

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" She tucked a leg up under herself, twisted in her seat and reached out to pull Ron's face sideways. 

Harry decided it was far less uncomfortable to avert his eyes at this point, since the tension was almost physically painful. How amusing that both of them were so blissfully unaware! 

Ginny coughed. 

"Harry? Care for a stroll up the corridor?" She nodded enthusiastically towards the door. 

"Um - sure!" 

The corridor was minutely narrow, and they were not the only ones stretching their legs, but Ginny managed to squeeze sideways while Harry pulled the door up behind them. They burst out laughing as soon as they were out of earshot. 

"He is such an idiot!" groaned Ginny, leaning her head against the wall. 

Harry was doubled over, one arm clutching his stomach, the other bracing himself over Ginny's shoulder. "I am seriously considering letting Sirius go ahead with his evil plot." 

"Oooooh - what evil plot? Can we join in?" 

The click of striding heels around the corner warned them in advance, but unfortunately the way back down to their compartment was barred by the refreshment trolley. 

The tall, lean person of Draco Malfoy lounged idly against the wall, his black robes framing his physique like a dark cloud. The inelegant bulks of Crabbe and Goyle stood at a respectful distance in the clattering join that linked their carriage to the next. Malfoy viewed them through half-lidded eyes and several strands of blonde hair. 

"Well, well, well," he drawled, eyeing Ginny with a disturbing combination of disdain and admiration. "Little Miss Weasley has grown up, hasn't she?" 

Harry put a defensive hand on her shoulder, feeling his blood begin to boil. Malfoy's eyes narrowed further as he raised his eyes from the level of Ginny's collar buttons to Harry's face. 

"Oh, and you, Potter. Not been run through with Avada Kedavra yet, then?" 

"No, no thanks to your father," retorted Harry, venomously. 

"Pity." His eyes descended to Ginny again, a cruel smile tilting his thin lips upward. "You have poor taste. But I suppose you are a Weasley. What a shame. You could have been worth something." His lascivious gaze glided over her briefly, before he brushed past Harry's shoulder with an unnecessarily hard nudge. 

"Harry - calm down," she said, before he could explode with indignation and anger. 

"I'm going to kill the bastard!" he seethed, clenching his fists as he watched Malfoy's retreating figure disappear around another corner. 

"Let it go," she suggested, turning to face him. The space was so narrow that she was practically pressed against his chest., and being at least a head shorter than he was, they fitted together perfectly. A gentle hand covered his fist, her eyes lowered. "He only does it to wind you up." 

"Doesn't it bother you having a worm like him lusting after you like a - like a - " 

"Harry! Stop it! If either of us gets upset, he'll have done what he intended to do, so don't let's get worked up, OK?" 

Her shining eyes calmed him like nothing else could, and he took a deep breath. "OK, you win. Let's go this way. I don't think I can stand the stench of perversion he's left behind for another minute." 

*** 

With about twenty minutes to spare before the train arrived at Hogsmeade Station, Harry and Ron were thrown out of the compartment while the girls got changed. 

"What the hell are we supposed to do when we get there?" hissed Ron. "I mean - do we act as normal, or are people going to know what we're up to?" 

Harry shrugged. "Act as normal, I suppose. We weren't told not to tell anyone, but I don't much fancy having Colin Creevey whining and following me around all the time." 

Ron sniggered. "So we just head for the Great Hall as usual then?" 

"Guess so. We're still students, as Lupin - Remus - Lupin - whoever the hell he is - said. Besides, I'm damned hungry." 

"So are we still in our Gryffindor Tower dormitories, or what?" 

Harry shrugged again. "We'll find out." He rapped on the door impatiently. "Come on, you two! We'll be there in a minute!" 

"Two seconds!" called back Hermione. A moment later, the door slid across and they were admitted. 

"What the hell were you doing?" muttered Ron, striding purposefully to his trunk. 

"Tidying ourselves up," replied Hermione, curtly. She caught Ron by the arm of his robes and proceeded to straighten his tie. 

"'Mione, gerrof!" he mumbled, attempting to bat her hands away. 

"Dear God, do we have a year of this to look forward to?" whispered Ginny, as she and Harry removed their belongings into the corridor. 

"No we damn well haven't. If they haven't got this sorted by Christmas, I am going to lock them in the Quidditch changing rooms until they do." 

"Nice," laughed Ginny, accepting his assistance in dragging her trunk onto the platform amid the mass of grey and black figures spilling from the doors. She sat down on top of it to get her breath back. 

A loud voice hailed them, and Seamus and Dean reached them just as Ron and Hermione came out of the train, still bickering. 

"Been playing Quidditch all summer, Harry," declared Seamus, proudly presenting a shiny blue badge pinned on his robes. "Me Dad took me to see the Chudley Cannons again. Got a signed photograph and all!" 

The boys were in the throes of discussing various Quidditch-related things, while Hermione and Ginny yawned deliberately in the background, when the vast form of the Hogwarts' gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, loomed over them like a mountain. 

"Hello there, everybody!" he exclaimed, cheerfully. "I was beginnin ter think yeh weren't coming! The train's over an hour late, yeh know!" 

He beamed down at Ginny, and drew Hermione into the crook of his gigantic arm. 

"I hear yeh've got something up yer sleeve, Harry," he said, in a ludicrously low voice tinged with excitement. "Heard all about it from Dumbledore himself. Yeh'll still come and see me, now, won't yeh?" 

"Of course we will!" cried Hermione, wrapping her arms around his giant wrist, oblivious to the peculiar stares they were attracting. 

Fellow seventh-years Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil hurried by them, with a wary glance at Hagrid and an amicable wave to the rest. 

"See you at the Sorting!" called Parvati, her golden bangles jangling with the enthusiasm of her wave. 

"Oh blimey! The Sorting!" cried Hagrid, disengaging himself from Hermione so abruptly that she fell back into Dean and Seamus, who made a spectacular catch just before she hit the cold, stone platform. "Can't stand 'ere gossiping!" Hagrid was muttering, clearing a wide path for himself as he strode towards the train. "Firs'-years over 'ere! Firs'-years with me, over 'ere! Come on now, don't be shy. Be quick about it!" 

Harry heaved Ginny to her feet while Hermione reassured the boys that she was perfectly all right, and they left their trunks in the care of the station porter. 

"How nice to have a carriage all to oneself," sighed Ginny, sinking into the foam seats. 

"Um - hello, Gin? We're here too!" said Ron, raising an eyebrow. 

"You know what I mean! Just the gang together." 

"Where's Neville?" asked Harry, suddenly realising they were one person short. 

Nobody appeared to know, but both Dean and Seamus admitted to having seen him on the train. 

"He was arguing with that Lovegood girl about Herbology," explained Dean, rolling his eyes. "We couldn't hack it, so we left him to it." 

Harry quite enjoyed the journey up to the school. Hermione and Ron picked at all each other's comments as was customary, and Dean and Seamus continued with their Quidditch debate, leaving Harry pleasantly occupied in exchanging winks and smiles with Ginny. 

It was utterly wonderful to step down onto the squishy grass beside the main entrance, and gaze up at the towering stones that had been his home for six years. He had little time for sentimental reflection, as a wave of uniformed students poured from the other carriages and up the stairs into the Entrance Hall, thrusting him along with them. 

Everything was just as he had left it two months earlier, right down to the roped-off swamp in the corner that remained as a tribute to the Weasley twins' flight to freedom not so very long ago. 

"Oh!" squeaked Hermione. "This is the last time we'll watch a Sorting! How sad!" 

Peeves the Poltergeist was hiding ineffectually behind a suit of armour half way up the Marble Staircase. Ineffectual partly because most of him was unobscured to those who were approaching the doors to the Great Hall, and partly because he was giggling. 

Whatever he had been plotting, presumably since the end of last term, apparently came off successfully as Harry and the gang made their way through the four long house tables to their usual seats. Shrieks and squeals drifted in through the open doors for another ten minutes, before a peaky collection of third years shuffled in drenched to the skin. 

"Oh no!" sighed Hermione, clambering over the bench to sit down. "He hasn't pulled that old water bomb trick again, has he?" 

"Evidently," said Ron, grimly. He didn't so much have to clamber over the bench as casually step, winning an envious rolling of eyes from Hermione. 

"There's Neville!" said Ginny, pointing to the fair-haired boy sitting a little way down the table with Parvati and Lavender. They all waved to one another, calling out greetings and well-wishes, until Professor Dumbledore's booming voice called for silence from the staff table. 

Harry's eyes scanned the row of teachers as they always did. Professor Sprout sat at the far end, her little hat bobbing excitedly up and down as she conversed with Madam Pomfrey of the Hospital Wing. The empty space beside Dumbledore was reserved for Professor McGonagall, who would be guiding the new first-years into the Hall at any moment for the Sorting Ceremony. 

Harry worked his way along the line until his gaze rested on a lean, wiry man with lank black hair and thundery eyes. Snape was glaring at nothing in particular, but years of bitter experience warned Harry that the intense expression on the Potions master's face was due to more than his customary churlishness. 

"Look out," he murmured to Ron, nudging his elbow. "The Bat is peeved about something this year." 

"Bet I could take a wild guess as to what," replied Ron. "DADA's vacant as usual, isn't it? Bet he lost it again." 

The Sorting Ceremony was uneventful, but curiously poignant. As Hermione had observed, this was the last time they would sit here, watching the new first-years take their turn under the Sorting Hat, their entire futures at Hogwarts depending on its decision. It was moving, but not depressing enough to put him off the feast that followed. 

"You're not still stressing about the damned house elves, are you?" said Ron, noticing Hermione's tendency to poke at her food before eating a mouthful. 

"No, I'm not," she replied, haughtily. "I have decided that since they cannot be persuaded to go free, their lives must be made as comfortable and easy as possible." 

"So what are you going to do, provide them with fluffy armchairs and compulsory cups of cocoa at half past ten?" sneered Ron, stuffing a forkful of Yorkshire pudding into his mouth. 

"You're a greedy hog, Ron," remarked Ginny. 

Hermione frowned. "You may mock me, Ron, but you'll see that I'm right one day." 

Harry was so engrossed in his meal that he had to be prodded by Ginny before he was aware of a dark, shadowy form standing at his shoulder. 

"Good evening, Mr Potter." The silky, caressing tones of Severus Snape were unmistakable. He was a slender man, and deceptively elegant in his movements. Draping the length of his jet robes over his arm, his hard lips curved into a mocking smile. Harry couldn't help noticing a thin, jagged scar running along his jawline, partially obscured by tendrils of black hair. A recent acquisition, no doubt, for it was still red in colour. The baritone timbre of Snape's voice was chilling, but it could hardly be described as harsh. "How very pleasant to have you back again. For the final time." The emphasis being on the word 'final', of course. "I understand I am to have the pleasure of seeing you in my advanced Potions class this year. How delightful." His obsidian eyes narrowed further in distaste. "I trust you will not make a nuisance of yourselves, though that is perhaps too much to expect from the infamous Mr Potter. Family failing, I suppose." 

Harry scowled as he watched Snape sweep up to the staff table with long strides, his cloak billowing out behind him. 

"What the hell did he want?" muttered Ron, his freckled cheeks burning with annoyance. 

"I don't know, but whatever he was doing, I didn't like it." 

Ginny poked him again and nodded towards his lap, where a thin, folded piece of parchment lay exhibiting the word 'Harry' in elaborate longhand. 

"It fell out of his cloak when he swept it over his arm," she explained. 

Harry opened the paper under the table, and peered at the contents. 

"Listen - 'Dear Mr Potter: You are required to keep a strict silence as regards your plans for this year until further notice. This applies to your two friends as well, and Miss Weasley, who I am sure has been taken into your confidence. The three of you are obliged to remain in your Gryffindor Tower dormitories as usual, and report to my Office at 8.30am tomorrow, promptly. No doubt Professor Snape will have eluded to the fact when he presented you with this letter, but you must understand that you will be required to attend Potions and Transfiguration classes with your fellow students. Both subjects are important to your current situation. Beware of curious questions. Regards, Albus Dumbledore.'" 


	23. The Founders' Gallery

**Hello! Another update at last! Sorry about the delays - I am still utterly devoted to this story, and I will keep going - promise!!**

**The usual thanks go out to all reviewers. You really do keep me going!! :-D**

**Loopyloony: The Harry and Ginny Romance will most definitely be establishing itself soon, never fear!**

**Whippy Bird: Yes, Snape did mean to give Harry the letter, but he didn't really want to get involved, hence the typically ambiguous Snape-like behaviour! More about that later.... ;-) And let's just say that Hermione and Ron are slowly becoming aware of what the rest of the world has known for ages, and they're confused, bless them.**

**Thankyou thankyou thankyou to absolutely everybody again! Keep reviewing!! :-D**

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**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE**

**The Founders' Gallery**

Ron swore and blasphemed all the way from the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower, until Hermione became so annoyed that she cast a silencing spell on him and refused to remove it. 

"You should do that more often," murmured Ginny, with a smirk. 

Ron glared at her, and Hermione swiftly changed her laugh into a harsh coughing fit. 

"_Testiculis Impalus_," mumbled a fifth-year Prefect, blushing to the roots of her blonde hair. The Fat Lady grinned sadistically, and admitted them to the common room. 

Hermione's jaw dropped open. 

"I can't believe that just happened," she gasped, staring at Ginny. "I really can't. That - that's illegal! It's - it's DISGUSTING! It's - Ron, what the hell are you doing?" 

She stared disdainfully at Ron's shaking from, doubled up over the back of an armchair. He shook his head, incapable of speech. 

Harry sniggered. "You remember last year, when McGonagall threatened to replace the Fat Lady for her - um - disgraceful behaviour at Christmas? I think we're having a fit of vengeance." 

Hermione was speechless, and collapsed into the armchair Ron was leaning on. 

"Oh, get a grip, Weasley!" she exclaimed, grabbing his elbow and jerking him over the top of the chair onto the seat. He gasped as he landed with Hermione's knee in his chest and his stomach on the hard arm. 

"Damn it, 'Mione!" he choked, clutching his abdomen and rolling on his back in agony. 

"Stop putting it on, Ron," said Ginny, perching on the arm of Harry's chair. 

"I'm not!" he wailed, his head coming to rest on Hermione's lap. 

Several other seventh and sixth-years remained in the common room for another hour or so, catching up on summer gossip and chatting. 

"I'm sure we were never that small," said Ron, curiously, as the last couple of second-years made their way upstairs to bed. 

Hermione studied them. "No, we weren't." 

"You still are small, 'Mione," laughed Ron, tilting his head backwards to look up at her face. 

She poked him in the ribs, and left her hand settled there. He didn't seem to object. 

_Strategic move, or what?_ thought Harry. 

He turned to Ginny. They spoke at the same time. 

"Right so - I'm off to bed." 

"See you in the morning, folks." 

They rose and dashed for the stairs, giggling all the way up to the point where the boys' steps separated from the girls'. They had to pause for a moment to catch their breath. 

"I cannot stand this," gasped Ginny. "Why can't he kiss her and have it over?" 

Harry glanced at her briefly. He fancied he saw her eyes drop and her cheeks blush with something other than the exertion of running up the stairs. She smiled slightly. 

Damn it - if he could just inch forward a bit, he could - 

_Oh, delightful._

She sank against his chest, warm and soft, and he laid his cheek against the side of her blazing head. 

"Goodnight, Harry," she murmured, raising her eyes to meet his. 

"Goodnight, Gin." 

She leaned up, still held in his arms, and pressed a gentle kiss at the side of his lips. A slender hand stroked his temple, brushing his black hair behind his ear as she backed away. And then she was gone - around the corner and up to the sixth-year girls' dormitory - leaving Harry with the distinct impression that he had walked into a very hot fire, quite possibly from the frying pan. 

Really - this was starting to become positively farcical. 

When he was not avoiding Hermione and Ron for fear of witnessing something he wasn't supposed to, he was locked in an enigmatic combat of emotions with the most desirable woman in the world _who had just kissed him. _

_Again. _

And what was even more frustrating was the fact that she had been millimetres away from where he most wanted her. What _was_ this game? Whatever it was, he wasn't sure that he liked it. Apart from the kissing, of course. And the closely pressed bodies. And, in fact, everything. 

_Damn!_

__

*** 

Waking up to an empty dormitory and not the cramped, messy bedroom he was used to sharing with Ron at The Burrow caused Harry a slight moment of confusion. Dean, Seamus and Neville had apparently already risen and gone, and the tone-deaf warbling coming from the bathroom indicated that Ron was having a shower. Harry sighed nostalgically as he trod on Dean's discarded pyjama bottoms, lying carelessly on the carpeted floor. 

Yes, this was Hogwarts all right - 

*** 

The corridors were heaving with people flooding up the stairs from the Great Hall, heading for the first lessons of the year. The noise was tremendous. A hundred voices raised together, from the squeaky first-years' shrieking, to the baritone drone of the upper school boys - not to mention the banging of classroom doors and the clatter of heels on stone. They were swimming against the tide somewhat. 

"Dear God, this place gets busier every year!" muttered Hermione, attempting to squeeze through the throng without receiving an antisocial smack in the eye. 

"Look - you are so bad at this," said Ron, placing a hand on her shoulder and overtaking her swiftly. His red head towered above all the others, and he had no trouble at all in clearing a path. 

The second floor was deserted by the time they reached it, and they raced towards the statue that hid the staircase up to Dumbledore's office. 

"Password - password - " growled Harry, realizing belatedly that none of them knew it. 

"I think you'll find that it's Almond Aardvarks," said a deep voice behind them. 

"You're making a habit of appearing in strange places at odd moments," said Harry, trying to conceal his surprise. 

Remus Lupin was grinning as he pulled back the dark cowl that hid his face from view. 

"I am invisible," he said, striding past them and stepping up onto the moving staircase. "Come on. I'm on time, which means you lot are late." 

"What are you doing here?" asked Hermione, anxiously. She had to trot to keep up with him as they moved along the narrow corridor towards Dumbledore's office door. 

"My job, among other things," was the reply. 

"Job?" repeated Hermione, breathlessly. 

"Questions later. There's no time to waste." 

He stopped outside the door and rapped smartly. 

"Enter!" 

The room never changed. It was still full of quaint objects and machines, bookshelves laden with dusty tomes and the portraits of old Headmasters lining the walls. 

Dumbledore himself sat at his desk, flanked by his beautiful phoenix, Fawkes, and a tall, slender man with sleek, black hair and a mischievous smile. 

"Good God!" exclaimed Harry, before he could stop himself. "What _is_ this?" 

"This, Harry," said Dumbledore, with a slight smile, "is an informal meeting to discuss your future year. Please sit down, all of you. Remus, Sirius - if you would be so kind - ?" 

The two men looked at each other and nodded, and disappeared through a side-door which Harry had never noticed before. 

The Headmaster arranged himself comfortably in his chair, and peered at the three over his spectacles. 

"So - you have not changed your minds?" 

They shook their heads. 

"I thought not. Very well. You clearly received my letter yesterday evening, which mentioned the fact that you will be attending your usual Transfiguration and Potions classes with Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape." 

They nodded - Ron with a particularly unguarded cringe. Dumbledore smiled. 

"You will soon appreciate the necessity of continuing your studies, I am sure." 

"Of course we do!" interrupted Hermione, excitedly. "There are unfathomable merits of having an advanced knowledge of Potions in the world of defence, and unlimited uses of Transfiguration techniques when one is constantly being exposed to the Dark Arts, especially when - " 

"Yes - quite," said Dumbledore, amusedly. "I am pleased that you are so keen, Miss Granger." 

Hermione blushed, and fell silent. 

"As I was about to say," he continued. "Your basic programme this year will involve a great deal of things which you have hitherto been unfamiliar with. Perhaps I should first apprise you of the fact that there is a large suite of rooms in the school which a certain map does not show - " He directed his gaze at Harry, with an almost imperceptible wink. "It is in these secret rooms, and I do mean secret, that you will be spending most of your lesson time. Naturally your tutors will not be the teachers you are used to, but I am sure you will find them most charming and efficient." 

Harry felt the need to interrupt. "Sir - when you say 'secret', are you trying to tell us that we must keep quiet about all of this?" 

"In theory, yes. Naturally I expect that your friends will be curious to know where you disappear to when you are not in lessons with them, and I do not expect you to lie to them. I have no doubt that you could make a convincing case for yourselves, but this ought not to be encouraged, I believe." 

He chuckled softly, temporarily lost in his own thoughts. The three waited patiently for him to resume. 

"Yes - anyway - everything else will be just the same as usual. I mean that you will remain in Gryffindor Tower and take your meals with everyone else in the Great Hall and continue with your Quidditch matches and so on. All the usual things." 

"So what do you suggest we tell our friends about where we go, sir?" asked Hermione, curiously. 

"Oh, they're bound to find out sooner or later, so tell them the truth, I'd say. A scaled-down version, naturally. We would not wish to alarm anyone or cause a mass exodus or a violent uprising, would we?" 

"Um - no, I suppose not." 

"The location of your new lessons must, however, be kept a strict secret. There is a password you must use to be admitted, and only the appropriate people will know it. Do you understand? Excellent." 

The side-door opened again, and Sirius leaned against the handle, lazily. 

"Ah!" said Dumbledore, rising from his chair. "Is everything all right, Sirius?" 

"Yes, sir. Ready when you are." 

Dumbledore gestured for the three to precede him through the door, with Sirius leading the way. 

"This is one route to the Founders' Gallery," he explained, lifting Fawkes onto his shoulder in a blaze of fiery red and gold. It was really quite an impressive sight to behold. "There is another way - the way you will use. We will exit that way, so you will see where to go." 

The corridor they were walking along was lit dimly by braziers, dancing in the light breeze that blew gently against them. The air smelled faintly of old books, musty and dry. 

"Why doesn't the Marauders' Map show any of this," Ron whispered, low enough so Dumbledore and Sirius could not hear. 

"I doubt whether even the Marauders ever managed to explore Dumbledore's office, Ron," replied Hermione, with a frown. 

Harry was only half listening. His eyes had caught sight of the increasing decoration on the walls. In the light of the orange braziers, the engraved silver images of phoenixes sparkled as if alive. The ceiling was rising higher and the passage was widening. They must have walked as far as the length of the Great Hall before a large, heavy door loomed up before them, or rather two doors, held together by a long silver bar. 

"Ardula Penfrascum," said Sirius, pointing his wand at the bar. His voice sounded low and deep in the cavernous hallway. 

The bar raised itself slowly, and the door swung open, a chink of white sunlight growing wider until they could see the room beyond. 

It was like a small garden room, with a low vaulted ceiling and tiny cobbled slabs on the floor. Wide, short lattice windows were letting in the daylight, which fell like liquid onto the shadowy walls. 

Hermione peered out of one of the open windows. 

"It looks out across the front lawns," she explained, craning her neck westward. "I can see half of the lake from here!" 

"Be careful, Hermione!" warned Sirius. "It's a forty foot drop if you lose your balance." 

Ron immediately took her by the shoulder and pulled her back, giving her a little push in the direction that Sirius and Dumbledore were walking. He shivered as he glanced down at the ground below the window. 

The odd little room had several doors along the walls, each varying in size. Sirius took the largest one, close to the window on their left. 

"Welcome to the Founders' Gallery," he said, grinning as he unlatched the bolt and flung the door open. 

They were standing at the bottom of the Gallery, looking up towards a slightly raised dais on which several polished suits of armour and a couple of gilt, velvet-cushioned chairs were positioned. The floor was not of stone, but long, thin slats of a golden wood, evidently as well cared-for as the decorative objects that hung on the panelled walls or on the wide window sills. 

"It's just like a Mediaeval hall!" whispered Hermione, gazing up into the vaulted eaves in awe. "Look at those gorgeous oak panels!" Hesitantly she ran her fingertips over the carved scenes, tracing the outlines of the mythical beasts and famous wizards of a bygone age. 

"It was one of the first rooms ever to be built," remarked Dumbledore, making his way slowly to a large chair in the corner of the Gallery. It creaked as he settled himself into it. "The oldest room there is apart from the Great Hall itself." 

"What is it used for?" asked Harry, wandering around the perimeter examining the bejewelled epees and Mediaeval armoury arranged like exhibits in a museum. 

"It was originally used as a Duelling Gallery," replied Dumbledore. "In the time of the Four Founders, duelling by sword was as important an art as duelling by wand. I happen to agree with that old tradition, and I make it my duty to ensure that all members of The Order are sufficiently able to wield one of those things." He nodded to a pair of crossed epees over a stone fireplace, and shivered. "Nasty instruments. I wouldn't touch one, personally. Give me my trusty wand any day!" 

Ron prodded a feathered lance in a metal stand beside the dais. "What is it supposed to do?" he inquired, curiously. 

"Stab someone," replied Hermione, automatically. 

"What, just like that?" gasped Ron, lowering his eyebrows doubtfully. "No magic?" 

A low chuckle from the direction of the dais caused all eyes to turn towards the panel that had slid silently across without being observed. 

"How do you suppose Muggles kill each other, Ron?" 

"Will you please stop doing that?" sighed Harry, as Remus stepped casually out of the secret passage behind the paneling. 

"I don't get it," muttered Ron, staring at the pointed tip in confusion. 

"Look," said Sirius, in a tone that suggested they were in for a particularly tedious lecture on the uses of Muggle armoury. He took down one of the epees from its hook on the wall, and tossed it to Remus. He kept hold of the other himself. "It's a ridiculous process, Muggle duelling, and totally ineffectual in the opinion of most wizards, but they have some nasty tricks which you lot should know about. You never know when you might need to use them yourselves." 

"Whatever happened to _noblesse oblige_?" laughed Hermione. 

Sirius snorted. "Fighting dirty and fighting with honour can be combined - if you know how." He winked at Harry. 

Remus' lips curved upwards into an enigmatic smile. 

"Why do I get the feeling that you two have played this game before?" murmured Harry, half to himself. 

"Watch and learn, boys," said Sirius, circling the floor slowly, sword poised. 

Ron stopped Hermione's ready objection to the highhanded and chauvinistic phrase with a calculated pressure on her toes from his booted foot. 

It was an interesting sight, to say the least. Remus held the Muggle blade in a lazy grip that did not inspire much confidence within the spectators. Sirius was a strong man, and utterly terrifying in the midst of battle, with a wand as well as a sharp instrument. Harry put Remus' casual indifference down to trusting friendship. No other combatant would have dared take such an attitude. 

A firm tug on the black rope that held his cloak in place, and Remus flung the garment aside. He was also making the circular progress, his amber eyes glowing fiercely as they locked with the glittering sapphire gaze of Sirius. 

"For old times' sake?" suggested the latter, tilting his head at an angle, amiably. 

"As you wish." 

Any doubts the onlookers may have felt at Remus' apathy were dispelled as soon as Sirius struck the first blow. It was blocked with a swiftness that did credit to Remus' slender frame, by no means as powerful as that of his opponent. It soon became clear that while Sirius had the advantage in strength and stamina, Remus' quick eyes and sharp reflexes could not be equalled. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione watched with open mouths. Finally, a quick flick of Remus' wrist brought Sirius' blade flying through the air and into his outstretched left hand. 

Both men were slightly breathless, and they remained staring at each other for several moments, until Sirius broke the silence. 

"She taught you well," he said, with a grin. 

Remus did not answer, but his glowing eyes burned brilliantly for a split second, as though something had thrown fuel upon a smouldering fire behind them. The inference, such as it was, was completely lost on the three spectators. 

Remus tossed back the sword, which Sirius deftly caught, and turned away. 

"Fancy a go?" inquired Sirius, facing them squarely. 

"No way in hell," replied Harry, promptly, while Ron shook his head. 

"Might as well learn sometime," said Sirius. A wicked sparkle lit up his eyes. "I hear Draco Malfoy is damned good with a sword. Runs in his family. I wouldn't want either of you getting hacked to pieces after one of your famous run-ins with him." 

Harry bristled. Anything that bastard Malfoy could do, he could do better. If that theory worked with Quidditch, it would work with duelling. 

"Fine," he said, determinedly. "Teach me everything you know." 

"That wouldn't be much. I just lost, didn't I?" He cast Remus a sideways glance. 

"Yeah, but you're both way better that I could ever hope to be. Where did you learn to do that?" 

"James and I taught ourselves," replied Sirius, expressionless. "It started with us messing around with some old swords in my father's drawing room. But we got the hang of it in the end. Remus had a real teacher, however." 

The look which Remus was sending Sirius could not quite be termed a glare, but neither was it particularly friendly. The tension was slightly hostile, to say the least. 

Harry felt the need to speak. Ron was gaping at the awkwardness, and Hermione was blushing to the roots of her hair, her eyes flickering all over the room, not resting on one thing for more than a few seconds. 

In the end, it was Dumbledore who spoke. He rose from his chair in the corner like a king from his throne, with just as much authority and magnificence. 

"I think it is time we moved on," he said, in the firm voice that he rarely used, but which demanded instant obedience. 

Sirius turned the sword upside down, so his palm held the blade and the hilt was extended towards Remus. He smiled faintly, conveying something which nobody but Remus appeared to comprehend. He smiled back, and took the sword. 

"Come on," urged Sirius, beckoning to them. "There's more to see." 

They exited from a side-door. Harry stole a final glance back into the Gallery from behind the door. Remus' back was to him as he replaced the two swords onto their hooks on the wall. He turned sideways to retrieve his cloak, and Harry caught a glimpse of his face. 

There could be no doubt about it - Harry had seen that look a hundred times on Sirius' face, and occasionally on his own when he looked into the mirror. It was all in the eyes, magnified tenfold in Remus' curiously expressive orbs. Harry wondered if he was aware that he was displaying his emotions so vividly - he had always struck Harry as being a reticent, secretive man. But then, Harry had not known of his skill with a sword until the impromptu display just then. There was no denying it - 

Something had just happened in that Gallery - in something that Sirius had said. 

Fighting the impertinent curiosity that had welled up inside him, Harry turned and followed the others along the narrow corridor behind the door. Whatever was going on in Remus Lupin's mind, it was none of his business. 

**A/N: The Gryffindor Tower password appears courtesy of Loveday Goodchild. You should all know the woman by now! ;-) Cheers, Ellie!**


	24. A Moonlight Assignation

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Big gold star to Whippy Bird!!!! I was wondering if anyone would pick up that little comment about Remus' teacher. You are quite right! Stay tuned for explanations and elaborations in the next few chapters! And big big thanks to all reviewers! I'm glad you all enjoyed the duel scene :-D

I think this one is my favourite chapter yet!!! Hope you like.....!

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

A Moonlight Assignation

"A whole afternoon of Potions!" wailed Ron. "Where did I go wrong, that they should punish me so?"

"Stop being so theatrical," snapped Hermione, tossing her lively hair over her shoulder.

They were making their way as slowly as possible in the direction of the dungeons, for their first lesson of the year with Snape. Over six years it had become a depressing ritual - the closer they got to the dingy classroom, the gloomier they became.

"Doesn't it just smell like Slytherin?" said Hermione, wrinkling her nose as they descended into the dark, cavernous rooms below ground-level.

Harry and Ron looked at her in astonishment.

"What the hell is a Slytherin-like smell?" asked Harry, tilting his head at her scornfully.

"Well, sort of cold and foreboding - "

"That's not a smell, 'Mione."

"Oh, you two are hopeless. You know what I mean. Cold things, like lemon and snow and cress leaves - Oh, the hell with it. Ginny could explain better than I can."

"Do you and Ginny make a habit of going about sniffing Slytherins?" inquired Ron, frostily.

"That's such a Ginny thing to observe," remarked Harry, a dreamy expression lighting up his face for a brief moment.

"Hmm - no, seriously, Hermione," persisted Ron, with a frown. "How would you know how Slytherins smell?"

"It's called poetic imagery, Ron," sighed Hermione, hitching her schoolbag over her shoulder and steering him into the foggy classroom.

"Yes, but - "

"When you've quite finished - " The resounding tones of Severus Snape drifted through the murky air, ordering them to come inside and shut the door. A pair of dark eyes glittering with fevered annoyance glared at them through the fumes. Hastily, they took their seats.

"Now that Mr Potter and his fanclub have arrived, I suppose I may begin?" He glanced quizzically at Harry, as though asking his permission. Harry, immune to the mocking, sardonic humour of everybody's favourite Potions' master, merely glared back. "While we are on the subject, might I inquire as to why you are the last to arrive?"

Harry decided that Snape's arcane blackness and caustic acrimony, coupled with the drawling, indifferent slyness of Malfoy, was a compound that bred wrath like no other. The latter was smirking with his housemates in the dingiest corner of the room, obviously all set to antagonize Harry to the best of their ability.

"Let out late from last lesson, sir," he replied, making a supreme effort to be polite.

"Which was what?"

Harry frowned. Snape was a member of The Order, and knew perfectly well that Harry's business was a strict secret. How utterly typical of him to place Harry in an impossible situation.

"With Professor Dumbledore, sir," he replied, equivocally.

Snape's mocking smile, if it could be termed a smile, disappeared. 

The lesson was acutely tedious, as usual, made none the better by Malfoy and his overgrown sidekicks, who, encouraged by Snape's viciousness, played the traditional game of baiting and trapping Harry as often as possible.

"You are becoming a severe pain in the rear area, did you know that?" remarked Hermione, as Snape turned to examine the overly pungent concoction of a distressed Hufflepuff girl.

Crabbe, or possibly Goyle, (it was becoming increasingly hard to tell which one was which, owing to their extraordinary girths and triple chins), made an irritating echo of her words, while Malfoy grinned wickedly.

"I aim to displease," he replied, stretching out his legs under the desk. 

Hermione was forced to allow, much against her will, that he was a good-looking little spawn of Satan - in a classical sense, if nothing else.

"What, no comeback, Granger?" he gasped, pressing a hand to his heart in mock surprise.

"I was in the process of choosing which bestial phrase was most appropriate to the occasion. They all apply to you, but I'm trying to save the more gruesome ones for your Christmas present."

"Oh, how sweet of you."

"Any time."

Harry knew it would probably be sensible to either poke, gag or hex Ron to prevent an outburst of verbal or physical violence, but he was filled with a perverse pleasure at watching Hermione give Malfoy as good as he gave. The incident on the Hogwarts Express was still in the forefront of his memory, and he knew that if Ron didn't kill him first, he himself would enjoy the privilege enormously.

"He's a stuck-up, self-obsessed, evil, malignant, depraved, hideous little demon!" muttered Hermione, as they made the long journey from the dungeons to Gryffindor Tower after the lesson.

"Anything else?" asked Harry, with a sly smile.

"Yes. He's an absolute bastard!"

"I wouldn't be surprised, actually," growled Ron, fuming. "I always thought any woman foolish enough to marry a man like Lucius Malfoy must be either insane or pregnant."

"Oh, please!"

"You started it!"

"Don't get going again, you two," begged Harry. "I'm starving hungry and it's dinnertime and I have a headache. Can we please leave?"

Hermione span round so fast that Ron stumbled into the wall.

"Headache? Is it your scar? Are you all right?"

"Yes, no, and yes," replied Harry, wearily. "In that order. All I want is some hot coffee and an enormous meal. And then my bed."

Hermione shook her head and sighed stressfully. "We've got to meet Sirius in the Gallery at half past nine," she said. "You'd forgotten, hadn't you?"

Harry glowered. "What does he want now? I thought Binns was a tedious lecturer, but Sirius wins hands down."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, weren't you paying any attention yesterday?" Hermione flounced into the lead as they approached the Fat Lady. "Evidently not! He said there are some people he wants us to meet. People who are going to be teaching us this year." She came to an abrupt and breathless stop at the portrait hole, and then moved swiftly aside. "And I am NOT saying that password. You can do it."

Harry sighed and did the deed, glaring at the Fat Lady as they passed. He knew it was terribly childish, but he couldn't resist stamping his feet as he stormed into the common room.

"Oooooh, somebody's in a bad mood tonight."

The warm, circular room was empty except for a small group of third years sitting on beanbags beside the stairs, and a disembodied head with flaming hair poking out from behind an armchair.

"So would you be if you'd just had Snape and Malfoy spitting venom at you all afternoon."

He flung himself into the armchair opposite Ginny's, crossing his arms and looking sulky.

"You have a serious attitude problem sometimes, Potter."

Harry's eyebrows rose, and he looked up at her sharply. She was smiling, and her dark eyes twinkled in the light of the fire. He relaxed at once. "So do you, Weasley." 

He lazily reached behind his back under a pretence of easing an itch, drawing out the cushion he had been leaning on and hurling it at her. She squealed, and flung it back.

"Right! That does it!"

A flurry of cushions, red, gold, fat, feathered, flew through the air between them, punctuated by squeaks and shrieks of manic laughter.

"That is so juvenile - " began Hermione, her sentence cut short as a cushion hit her on the nose.

Needless to say, all four of them wandered down to the Great Hall a good while later looking distinctly dishevelled, laughing madly and loudly in the corridors and on the stairs. They attracted a certain amount of attention, both disapproving and amused, as they collapsed into their seats at the Gryffindor table.

"You're late," remarked Neville, studying them through narrowed eyes. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," replied Harry, trying to keep a straight face. "Nothing at all, Neville, don't worry about us."

"I do," said Neville, rolling his eyes. "Pass the bread rolls, Ron."

Dinner progressed in a leisurely fashion. At least at first -

"Oh, Merlin," muttered Hermione, ducking her head slightly. "Look who it is."

They all turned their heads in the direction of the Slytherin table, where several raucous cheers had erupted. At the centre of attention, as always, was Malfoy, cocking his head haughtily and smirking.

"What's he up to now?" said Harry, curiously.

"They've just found out, I expect," said Neville, sinking his teeth into a haphazard bacon sandwich.

"Found out what?"

Neville started in surprise, and began to stutter. "Oh - um - you hadn't heard, then?"

"Heard what?" Harry knew his voice sounded aggressive, but a sudden, apalling thought had just occurred to him having seen the way Malfoy was being clapped on the back and waited upon by his adoring housemates.

"He's Head Boy, isn't he?" sighed Hermione, covering her face with her hands in despair. "Oh, dear God, what ever possessed Dumbledore?"

Ron exploded, and had to be forcibly placated before he would agree not to plunge into the midst of the Slytherin table and vent his anger.

Neville was looking thoroughly uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry, I thought you knew already. Didn't you have Potions with him today?"

Harry clenched his fists under the table. "The slimy git! How absolutely typical of him not to mention it. I can just see it now - he'd wait until we broke some rule or made a disparaging comment - the bastard!"

For once Ginny did not place a cool, calm hand on his shoulder or offer words of sweet comfort. She sat as still as a statue, her face tense. Suddenly she brushed the crumbs from her lap and rose from the table. "Got to go," she said, using Harry's shoulder as a lever to help herself over the bench.

"Where?" asked Ron, suspiciously.

"Things to do. See you tomorrow, I expect. Have fun with you-know-what!"

And she disappeared, mingling into the crowd of lower years who were ambling out of the Hall.

"Don't like the sound of that," muttered Ron.

"What? She's probably got work to do," suggested Hermione.

"It's only the third day of term!"

"Maybe she's conscientious," she replied, waspishly. "Not everyone dosses around like you do, Ron."

"Thanks!"

"Don't mention it."

"Sirius," interrupted Harry, firmly. "Now."

***

They made their way to the fourth floor, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The corridors were emptying gradually as the evening curfew approached, and apart from the occasional fifth-year under the curious impression that the rules did not apply to them, they met no-one.

"You do realise that we're early, don't you?" inquired Ron, bitterly. "It's not even nine yet!"

"It's good to give a favourable impression," replied Hermione, promptly.

The concealed entrance to the Founders' rooms was below a statue in one of the more obscure hallways, close to the front of the castle. It was a lifesize, marble image of Godric Gryffindor himself, set on a wide plinth about five feet high, one side of which opened when the password was uttered, revealing a spiral staircase leading downwards.

"It smells of jasmine in here," said Hermione, as they slowly descended the steps.

"Oh, don't start with all that again," exclaimed Ron, pleadingly. "I don't think I can take any more!"

The stairs finished in a well-lit passageway, leading to the curious, cobbled-floored room just off the Gallery. They passed other doors as they made their way in that direction, occasionally allowing curiosity to get the better of them and peering into the unknown rooms. "I bet Sirius was peeved that the Marauders never knew about these rooms when they were at school," remarked Harry, with a wicked smile.

"He's making up for it big-time now, though," said Ron, leaning on the handle of the door to the Gallery.

"Sssh!" hissed Hermione, grabbing Ron's wrist. "Wait a minute. Listen!"

"I can't hear anything!"

"Sssssh! Let me." She pushed him aside and opened the door a tiny amount. She peered through the crack into the dark room. Not even a single brazier was alight, and it was clear that the room was deserted - except for a tall figure lurking in the shadows several feet away from the door.

Harry and Ron strained their necks to see over Hermione's head, aware of the necessity to keep quiet. Whoever was waiting in the shadows, it could not be Sirius. Something peculiar was going on. Why was the room so dark? Only the light of the full moon flooded the Gallery with its eerie, silver light.

A faint creak from the dais at the top of the hall informed them that the secret passage was opening, admitting a second person to what was obviously an arranged assignation. They watched the figure emerge, swathed in black, holding their breath in anticipation.

A casual movement in the corner caught their attention, as the original figure walked forward to greet his guest. They faced each other squarely, with quite a distance between them. The visitor removed its cowl as it stepped into a pool of moonlight.

Hermione gasped, forcing Harry to stretch out his hand and place it over her mouth to prevent a further noise that would indicate their presence.

They were looking at a woman. And no ordinary woman at that. She was tall and slim and youthful, dressed entirely in black except for several silver buckles and thin chains that decorated her high boots and cloak. Long, poker straight hair, the colour of deep mahogany fell below her waist like a luxurious blanket of silk. The moonlight fell upon her like liquid, shimmering mysteriously in the clandestine quality of the night. Her face was astonishingly attractive. Not beautiful - her features were too irregular to be beautiful - but Merlin, she was a striking figure of womanhood.

She smiled cryptically at her opposite, leaning her weight provocatively on one hip.

The man moved forward into the light. Harry knew his voice before he recognised the body. It _was_ Sirius.

"Well, well, well. Truth Kristatos, back from the dead."

He was smiling too, just as cryptically. He tossed back his dark hair, crossing his arms over his chest. The girl did the same, whether consciously or unconsciously, Harry could not tell.

"Sirius Black, back from the fires of hell."

Her voice was even more astonishing than the rest of her. The words 'low' and 'velvety' were about as close as Harry could get to describing the sound, but neither did it justice. Her tones resounded richly in the large room, touched with nuances that betrayed the fact that she was not English. Harry had never heard a voice quite like it. Curiosity was burning him up like a furnace, and he could sense the same in Ron and Hermione beside him.

The girl and Sirius stood silently for a few moments, staring at each other with narrowed eyes glinting with mischief. Then Sirius laughed lowly, and relaxed his posture. The girl, still smiling, moved towards him, and Harry could now see that she was holding a coiled whip in her hand. He wasn't entirely sure what he expected to happen next, but whatever it was, it didn't happen. Sirius had started to move forward, and they met in the middle in a warm embrace, the whip falling in a clatter to the floor.

"Trust you to make such a theatrical entrance," laughed Sirius, holding her at arm's length.

She smiled thoughtfully, and ran a fingertip along his jawline.

"I never expected to see you again, Sirius," she said, softly. "I heard they reprieved you in the end."

"It's in the past," he replied, dropping his eyes to the ground between them. 

"You're a brave man, Black. I knew you didn't do it."

She had crossed her arms again, and viewed him with cool calculation.

"You never told me how you got away," he said.

The girl shrugged. "It's not important. I got away and went home. It was then I heard they'd arrested you. Nobody would listen to me, and I thought - "

She broke off, her eyes shining with pain as she recalled old memories.

"You thought they were dead," finished Sirius. He shrugged. "I'd have done the same."

A distant, mournful howl rang through the air from the direction of the forest. It was hideously chilling, sending shivers up Harry's spine. 

__

Full moon, he thought._ Of course - Remus._

The girl had started at the sound, and her eyes were wide with some kind of emotion. Not fear, but surprise mingled with - something else Harry couldn't define. Sirius reached out a hand to her, and made to speak. It was then that Hermione gasped again, making Ron jump half out of his skin. The sudden movement jolted the door open, and they knew they had been discovered.

Sirius and the girl turned to the source of the disturbance immediately.

"What the hell - ?" began Sirius, pulling out his wand as swift as lightning.

"Now you've done it!" hissed Hermione, glaring at Ron.

"Go back!" ordered Harry, pushing them towards the exit. "Quickly!"

They ran as fast as they could until they were safely on the other side of Godric Gryffindor. They sank against the wall, panting for breath.

"Why did we just run?" asked Hermione, holding a stitch in her side. "We were supposed to meet Sirius, after all!"

"I didn't feel that was something we ought to have overheard," replied Harry, heading briskly towards the staircase. "Come on - Gryffindor Tower, before Sirius catches up with us."

"He'll guess it was us, surely?"

"Possibly, but I'd rather die later than sooner, if you don't mind."

They reached the common room, and found it empty. Even Ginny, who made a habit of waiting up for them when they were busy during the evenings, was nowhere to be seen.

"Who was that girl?" asked Hermione, curiously.

Ron snorted as he flopped into a chair beside the fire. "How should we know?"

"It was a rhetorical question, you fool."

"Whoever she was, she's important," said Harry, firmly. Two pairs of astonished eyes turned on him.

"What makes you say that?" asked Ron.

"Something she said, or something Sirius said, I can't remember. It was about the night Sirius was arrested. The night - my parents died." Harry broke off. He didn't often speak of that particular subject, and it surprised him that the words came so freely.

"What did she say?"

Hermione snapped her fingers as though a thought had suddenly struck her. "Of course! She said that she got away and went home, and then she found out Sirius had been arrested! She must have been in danger too, like - your parents."

"Which means she must have belonged to The Order," said Harry, choosing not to wallow in the wave of regret that customarily flooded him whenever his parents were mentioned.

"Evidently she still does, otherwise she wouldn't be here."

Ron held up a hand. "Hang on a minute, I'm confused. What is she here for?"

"Perhaps she's on a mission," suggested Hermione, thoughtfully. "She's obviously not British, so maybe - "

"Excuse me? How did you arrive at that conclusion?"

"Oh, Ron, pull yourself together! Isn't it obvious? We've met all the members of The Order already, remember? I've read up about it, and The Order of the Phoenix is not confined to the British population, but it extends all over the world. Apparently, according to _A History of Wizarding Governments,_ The Order was originally a small group of very powerful wizards with particular strengths and gifts - sort of an elitist sect. The purpose of this group was to educate and refine their talents for use in battle with the Dark Arts, but they acquired a rather unfavourable reputation in the 600s AD. People started to believe that their special powers made them perfect candidates for Dark Magic themselves, and they were soon mistrusted and had to disband. Dumbledore reformed The Order thirty years ago, and it has become an enormous organisation which - "

" - Extends all over the world - yes, your powers of research are truly incredible, 'Mione, but you were explaining how you know the girl we saw tonight is not British - "

"Aside from the fact that we've never seen her before, and nobody has mentioned her, she is clearly from a Mediterranean country, perhaps Turkey, but she has lived in Britain for most of her life, hence the excellent English she speaks - "

Ron was speechless, which left Harry to proceed uninterrupted.

"You noticed her accent too?" he said.

Hermione nodded. "It was a very unusual voice, I thought. And her name as well - Truth. That's such a beautiful name! I wonder if we'll get to meet her - " She tailed off with a dreamy expression on her face.

"Well, whether we do or not, I suggest we don't mention to Sirius the fact that we've seen her before and know what we know."

Hermione agreed, and was about to open her mouth to say more when the portrait hole swung open, admitting a flustered-looking Ginny. She halted when she saw them.

"Where have you been?" demanded Ron, instantly. "It's almost curfew!"

"Had things to do," she replied, evasively. A hot flush was reddening her cheeks, and she did not meet anyone's eyes.

"What things?"

"Just things. I'm back now, don't worry. See you tomorrow!"

She fled up the stairs and disappeared, leaving the three in a state of bewilderment.

"Right - that does it - " began Ron, rolling up his sleeves as if preparing for a fight. Hermione caught his arm as he passed her.

"Leave her alone," she said, firmly. "She doesn't want to talk about it."

"How would you know?"

"I'm a girl, Ron, remember?"

"So?"

"So I can empathise."

"So where the hell has she been, Miss Telepathy?"

"How should I know?"

"You said you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

"You did! You said she doesn't want to talk about it, thereby implying you knew what 'it' was!"

"I don't _know_, Ron, but I can guess."

"Then illuminate me, because being a mere man, I can't see the utterly obscure!"

"Don't try and be clever, Ron."

"Why not? If you can get away with it, why shouldn't I? Anyway - stick to the point! Where do you _suppose_ she has been?"

"Oh, you're impossible!" Hermione turned on her heels and stalked towards the stairs. "If you're so bothered about it, ask her yourself. I'd hate to be wrong and have you kill her for no reason!"

Ron turned to Harry, opening and closing his mouth incredulously.

"Did you understand a word of that?" he gaped.

Harry didn't answer. He also was a mere man, but he had a pretty shrewd idea what Hermione was thinking, and he didn't like it much. Tousled hair, blushing, eager to get away - embarrassed, perhaps? Her behaviour had the words 'romantic liaison' written all over it!


	25. The Lion's Secrets

****

As of this update, I am changing the title of the story (I did warn you! :P) to:

__

'Venus Ascending'

You'll see why as we go along!

Miss Weasley has a secret, and you'll have to stay tuned to find out what it is!! :-D 

Don't worry though - I'm a sucker for happy endings, but I do like a nice twisty plot to make the ride worthwhile!!

Keep reviewing!

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The Lion's Secrets

Suffice it to say that Harry did not sleep a wink that night, but kept tossing and turning in his bed as his thoughts whirled. Too restless to close his eyes, he wracked his brains to come up with excuses for Ginny's peculiar behaviour, hoping to hit on one that sounded plausible and dealt him far less hard a blow.

__

Perhaps she really is busy with something, he thought. _But then why won't she tell us what? She's definitely keeping a secret, which means it's something she thinks we won't like. So whatever it is, I won't like it. Oh, damn._

Naturally, discussing the matter with Ron would only breed disaster, since he too was irritated and suspicious about what his little sister was up to. Hermione, Harry knew, wouldn't talk to him about it, telling him that it was nobody's business but Ginny's and she would tell them if and when she was ready.

There was nothing for it - he would have to sweat it out alone and hope that he was horribly, horribly wrong.

***

The morning slid by quickly, since McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson was a godsend in comparison to Potions with Snape. Harry counted his blessings and decided to relax, pushing disturbing thoughts of Ginny to the back of his mind for the time-being. After all, there were a hundred chances that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

"Oi, Harry!" hissed Seamus, leaning across the aisle to make himself heard. "Have you made up a Quidditch practice timetable yet?"

Harry had to think for a moment or two before he could reply. "Oh - sorry, not yet. I've been pretty busy."

"Well get a move on, mate! The match against Slytherin is in March, and we want to win that cup again!"

Seamus had joined the Gryffindor team the year before, following a rather nasty accident which had befallen one of Harry's Chasers, minutes before the Ravenclaw match. Desperate for any assistance whatsoever, Harry had tentatively agreed to let Seamus replace the unfortunate Chaser, and was rewarded, rather astonishingly, with one of the most amazing wins of his entire Quidditch career. He had hastily offered Seamus a permanent place on the team, which had been unhesitatingly accepted.

Harry placated him with promises to write up the timetable as soon as possible, and returned to copying out notes on human transformations from his textbook. If Quidditch couldn't take his mind off things, nothing could.

Professor McGonagall rose to her feet several moments before the lesson was due to end.

"You may put your quills down," she commanded. "I have one or two things to say to you before you leave, and I require your undivided attention, if you please. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to inform you that there will be a Hogsmeade weekend for the middle-school in a fortnight's time, and that seventh-years should consider themselves restricted to future timetabled visits, and on no account must they venture out at any other time. Do you understand?"

A murmur ran around the classroom.

"But seventh-years are allowed to go in their free periods, Professor!" objected Parvati Patil, her eyes wide with concern.

"Not this year, Miss Patil," replied Professor McGonagall, sternly. "It is an issue of safety. You may go with the rest of the school on the assigned weekends, but no-one is to venture outside the grounds otherwise, unless permission has been granted before hand by Professor Dumbledore himself. Is that clear? I'm sure I don't need to remind you that the punishment for any rebellious students will be severe."

Nobody needed reminding in the slightest, and it was with heavy hearts that the class departed.

"Mr Potter!"

McGonagall's voice halted Harry in his tracks as he gathered up his books and waited patiently for Ron to finish stuffing his back into his bag.

"Professor?"

"I am also to inform you and your two friends that your presence will not be required at the Gallery this afternoon, since the persons who would have expected your attendance are engaged elsewhere in important business."

"Where have they gone?" asked Harry, automatically.

McGonagall's lips pursed. "That is not your affair, Potter. I suggest you get on with some work and make use of your free time this afternoon. You're in for a busy year, and I want to see good results at the end of it." Her expression softened slightly. "I also want to see you raise that Quidditch cup this year, so make sure you train that team of yours into first-class condition ready for the Slytherin match."

Harry smiled, and nodded his agreement, before following Ron and Hermione out into the corridor.

"What's wrong with letting seventh-years go into Hogsmeade?" Ron was muttering. "What's Dumbledore got up his sleeve now?"

"I don't think it's a case of what Dumbledore has got up his sleeve," replied Hermione, grimly, "but what You-Know-Who has got up his."

Ron started, in the same manner as when somebody mentioned the full name of that same personage. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Ron, do I have to explain everything to you?"

"No - not _everything_ - "

"An issue of safety, McGonagall said. That could mean anything, but it means Volde - I mean, You-Know-Who. Or at least, his followers. I don't like the sound of that at all. They've come close to Hogwarts before, but never so close as to cause Dumbledore to ban us from Hogsmeade! This is serious!" She hastened her pace, making for the Library.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Ron called after her departing form.

"I'll find something, don't you worry!"

"She will and all," muttered Ron to Harry, as she disappeared around a corner. "I have no difficulty at all in believing she would take on a whole army of Death Eaters if she had to!"

Harry was deep in thought. Hermione was right - this was terribly serious.

"Perhaps that's why Sirius and Remus have gone off somewhere," he said, in a low voice. "Nothing would call them away except serious Order business."

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow," shrugged Ron. "If they're back."

***

Hermione was already in the Great Hall when the boys arrived at lunchtime, talking heatedly over the table with Ginny. Harry tensed when he saw her familiar red-gold head, and he could not suppress a shiver of emotion when he saw her rose-coloured lips part in a dazzling smile.

"Afternoon, Harry," she said, brightly. There was no trace of awkwardness in her manner at all, nothing that suggested she was concealing something unpleasant behind those enchanting brown eyes.

"All right, Gin?" He hoped he looked and sounded casual as he slipped onto the bench beside Hermione.

"What have you had this morning?" demanded Ron, almost before he had sat down.

"Charms," replied Ginny, promptly.

"And?"

"And nothing. Had a free period just before lunch."

"What did you do?"

Ginny tilted her head at an angle and stared at her brother mutinously. "Ran off and got married to a handsome Italian with a bank balance the size of Draco Malfoy's ego."

Ron shut up. Harry couldn't hold back a chuckle of laughter. Ginny grinned back at him.

All his worries seemed to die a death as his eyes met hers across the table. How could she possibly be doing something so sinister behind their backs? It was unthinkable. 

__

You idiot, Potter!

He hoped this feeling of inner liberation would last. Ginny was well-known for her peculiar habits of secrecy and manipulation, but never yet had Harry heard of her using her mischievous nature for anything other than innocent fun. But then, perhaps that was how it appeared to her. She didn't know (at least Harry hoped she didn't), how he felt about her, and so it couldn't be held against her if she chose to see somebody behind the backs of her brother and her friends. In actual fact, his feelings aside, it was none of his bloody business! But that didn't stop him worrying. Ginny Weasley held him in her hands like a Ming vase, and she didn't even know it. One word from her and he would smash into a thousand pieces!

"How has your morning been?" she asked Ron, ignoring his scowl.

"Oh, fine. We've only been told we can't go to Hogsmeade unless we go with the lower years on assigned weekends because of rampant Death Eater threats, but otherwise - "

"Oh, shut up, Ron!" retorted Hermione. "It was nothing like that!"

"You said - "

"I was theorizing."

Ron let his head fall onto his arms despairingly, letting out a pained groan. If it was sympathy he was striving for, he didn't get any from his sister.

"What on earth - ?" exclaimed Ginny, leaning forward intently. Hermione waved aside her curiosity.

"He's just being melodramatic, Gin," she explained, in the sort of tone a mother would use to apologise for the bad behaviour of her little child. She then proceeded to elaborate on Professor McGonagall's announcement.

"And did you say Sirius and Remus have disappeared too?" asked Ginny, thoughtfully. She didn't wait for a reply, but stood up hastily and muttered something under her breath before hurrying out of the Hall.

"All right, Miss Granger - " said Ron, fuming, "this is it! You can't tell me she's busy with schoolwork now!"

"Ron, where are you going?"

"After Gin, of course!"

"No, Ron!"

"She's hiding something, and I mean to find out what it is!"

Hermione stood up with him, as though she intended to grab hold of him before he could chase his sister through the school, but unfortunately for Hermione, the length of the table prevented her reaching him in time.

"Oh no!" she sighed, desperately. "Damn the boy!"

Harry swivelled round on the bench, taking her firmly by the wrist. "All right, 'Mione - spill the beans. What do you know?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh yes you do, or you wouldn't be so worried! What's going on with Ginny?"

Hermione dropped her eyes and shifted, awkwardly. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because - because I promised."

Harry's heartbeat began to race. "It's that bad, is it?" he said, softly.

"Oh, Harry! I wish I could tell you! I know what you're thinking, and I - I - I'm so sorry!" 

She tore her arm away and dashed out of the Hall, leaving Harry shaking with panic. He saw her outline disappear through the doors before his eyes slid out of focus.

"Got a problem, Potter?"

Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy standing at his shoulder, viewing him with the customary caustic gaze, arms crossed arrogantly over his lean chest.

"Bit out of your depth, perhaps?" he drawled.

Harry narrowed his eyes and glared back at him, wishing he could find a suitable retort more readily. Malfoy leaned down menacingly, speaking in a low voice to avoid being overheard.

"Take my advice, Potter, and back off the Weasley girl. She's in it up to her neck, and it's not going to be you she runs to when she falls apart."

Harry felt icy fingers run up and down his spine as Malfoy's words slipped from his lips like silver poison. 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Forget it, Potter. If I know what's going on and you don't - I think that says it all, don't you?" He straightened his back, tossing his sleek, blonde waves away from his eyes before curving his lips into a cruel smile. "See you around."

Harry was torn between wanting to storm up behind him and beat the living hell out of him, and slinking into the shadows alone to ease the thumping pulse of blood through every vein in his body. Luckily for somebody, Malfoy was lost in the exodus that swamped the Entrance Hall, making the former course of action impossible even if Harry had tried to pursue it. Instead, he remained frozen in his seat until the Hall had emptied itself, Malfoy's words ringing in his head.

He needed air. He needed a long walk, so he could think.

***

Ron looked anxiously towards the portrait hole for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening.

"Where the heck is he?" he muttered, fiercely.

"I expect he wants to be alone," replied Hermione, sinking further into the armchair she was occupying, her nose buried deep in a thick, dusty book from the Library.

"Why?"

"Oh, Ron, I don't know. He needs to think."

"What about? What's happened that you won't tell me about?"

Hermione was silent. Ron studied her downcast face intently.

"She's my sister, 'Mione," he said, softly. "And Harry is my best friend. If either of them had a problem, you would tell me, wouldn't you?"

"It's not my place to say anything."

Ron considered for a while. "Do you know where he is right now?"

"I just said that I didn't."

"Well, do you think you could take one of your infamous educated guesses, then?" suggested Ron, impatiently.

Hermione let out a long sigh and set her book aside. Slowly she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. "He often sits by the lake. But Ron, don't try and bully information out of Harry, or Ginny."

Ron stared at her suspiciously. "The way you say that makes it sound like there's more between those two than meets the eye."

"Of course there is! Hadn't you even noticed?" Hermione glanced around the common room, aware that she had raised her voice slightly. "The night of Harry's party - what we talked about afterwards - I thought - "

"You thought what?" snapped Ron.

"I thought you'd guessed." She could feel her cheeks growing hot, and steeled herself for an ear-bashing. But it didn't come.

Ron leaned back in his chair with a relaxed sigh, never breaking eye-contact.

"I'm not totally blind, 'Mione."

"You DID know!"

"Of course I know! I knew way before Harry's party! Bloody hell, 'Mione, you don't give me much credit, do you?"

Now her cheeks were positively burning, with embarrassment as well as growing anger.

"You didn't say anything!"

"Neither did you!"

Silence fell as they stared at each other in surprise and indignation. They didn't see the last group of fifth-year girls make a swift exit up the stairs to the dormitories.

Hermione was the first to speak. "So, I've been pussy-footing around for over two months, trying not to break confidence, and you knew all along? Did Harry tell you?"

"No. Did Ginny tell you?"

"No, I guessed."

"You guess way too much."

"But you agree with me this time, don't you?"

"For once, yes."

"And you're not angry?"

Ron blinked. "Why, should I be?"

"Well - I always thought - you and Ginny have always been - well, you know - I just assumed - "

"You assumed I'd go on the defensive and accuse Harry of having dishonourable intentions towards my little sister?"

"Well, what of it? That's what Harry thinks!"

Ron didn't answer, but fidgeted uncomfortably. "I can't say I like the idea of Ginny being hurt, and let's face it - Harry's not exactly the safest boyfriend in the world, is he?"

"Oh, I KNEW you'd have a problem with this!"

Ron leaned forward and took her by the arm, pulling her towards him with such abruptness that she fell to her knees at his feet, gasping as his head bent close to her face.

"But then, neither am I."

Hermione felt her heart pump louder, until she was sure he would hear it, unless it burst out of her chest first. 

_Did he just say what I think he said?_

He released her arm and rose to his feet, apparently unperturbed by what had just come out of his mouth.

_He can't have meant it like that_, she thought, desperately. _Not Ron. It wasn't a Ron thing to say._

"Come on," he said, his blue eyes flashing fire. "Screw the curfew. Let's go find him before he flings himself off the ramparts."

Trying to conceal her shaken emotions, she allowed him to pull her neatly to her feet and guide her out of the portrait hole.

***

It was long past curfew, and not a soul was disturbing the peaceful silence of the evening. The moon and stars were the only sources of light as Harry crossed the fragrant courtyard towards the school, hoping he wouldn't be spotted. It was rare that he should be caught out of bounds without his father's cloak to hide him, but he had never intended to stay away for so long. His thoughts just kept coming and coming - 

Hagrid had been helpful, in a way. He'd cheered him up at least, and made him promise to come again. It was nice to sit in the oversized armchairs in his cosy house, listening to Fang's whining snores and the crackle of the fire. For once, Hagrid had not insisted upon talking all the time. Perhaps it was some inner sensitivity that made him realise that Harry needed companionship without the conversation.

The corridors through the ground and first floors were deserted, and Harry was able to creep unseen up the stairs and past Filch's dark office. It was just as well really, for a midnight confrontation over school rules would put the icing on the cake well and truly. All in all, it had been an utterly terrible day.

As he climbed the stairs up to the fourth floor, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Automatically he brought out his wand, keeping to the shadows, his eyes searching the corridors for any sign of movement. He could feel another presence close by, and it was an ominous sensation.

A shift in the light that flooded the hallway from the tall windows revealed a furtive figure moving noiselessly down towards the lower floors. Harry had never seen a man move so fast, and so cautiously at the same time. Whoever it was, he was moving like a surefooted cat, and he was most definitely heading for somewhere that he was not supposed to be. It was not a teacher - Harry would have recognised the style of walking. Besides, no teacher would need to move with such stealth, lurking in the corridors in the middle of the night. He thought for a split second of Sirius or Remus, returning from their mission, or whatever it had been. They had reason to prowl around under cover of darkness, since the presence of Order members in the castle was a strict secret. Their business was important enough to force them to keep to the shadows like ghosts.

But no - the figure was too slender and sinister. Almost snake-like in its caution -

Then, as the figure passed beneath a window, and turned its head to glance over its shoulder, Harry saw its face in the glimmering moonlight.

_Malfoy._


	26. The Wolf's Memories

****

This is the longest chapter yet! And as you will have gathered from the title, it's about Remus, and what happened to the Marauders on the night that Lily and James died. 

Thanks to all reviewers: Lord Agamus, shadowed.phoenix, eedoe, KLPERRY, aniangel, Denny and Nikki Ash. Don't worry about Ginny ;-) She knows an evil bastard when she sees one. Stay tuned - we have a Christmas Ball coming up soon at which all will be revealed to our long-suffering Harry! *grabs him and snuggles him*. I think the poor boy deserves a kiss, don't you? Yes, I'll see what I can do ;-)

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

The Wolf's Memories

Keeping a good distance between himself and Malfoy, Harry slipped back down the way he had come, never taking his eyes off the furtive form ahead of him. Anyone wandering the corridors at night with such a suspicious attitude could be up to no good, but since it was Malfoy on the loose, Merlin knew what he was doing.

Harry followed him all the way down to the ground floor, ducking down below the bannister on the Marble Staircase as Malfoy turned to the left at the bottom.

_He's heading for the dungeons!_

Suddenly, a hand was clamped over his mouth, while another gripped the wrist of his right hand in an iron hold.

"It's us!" came Ron's voice, in an urgent whisper. "Me and 'Mione. Keep quiet!" He released Harry as soon as he relaxed. "Who was that?"

"Malfoy," said Harry, brusquely. "He's up to something, and I don't like it."

"Where did he come from?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know. I saw him first on the fourth floor stairs. He was going down while I was going up. He didn't see me."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Where do you suppose he was going?" asked Ron.

"His dormitory, possibly?" suggested Hermione, acidly.

"No, I mean, where do you suppose he was going that caused him to come down from the upper floors in the dead of night to go back to his rooms?"

Harry brushed past them, retracing his steps up the stairs. "Let's not debate it just here, shall we? Someone else might decide to take a midnight stroll, and then we're dead."

"Possibly quite literally," muttered Ron, half to himself. "If today's events are anything to go by!"

They reached the fourth floor with no incident, and proceeded towards the stairs that led up towards Gryffindor Tower. The darkness was almost oppressive.

"Too bad you don't have the cloak, Harry," said Ron, sadly. "We could have followed Malfoy all the way."

"What good would that do?" came the scathing tones of Hermione through the blackness. "He was going back after doing whatever he was doing tonight. It wouldn't have been at all helpful!"

"You never know. I bet he's doing something dodgy for his father, though. What if he's found out about The Order using the school as a base?"

"Just say that a bit louder, Ron!" hissed Harry. 

"Sorry. But what if he has? He's bound to pass the information on to Lucius, and then we'll have a bloody great army of Death Eaters descending on the school to wreak vengeance - "

"Ron, shut up, you're making me nervous!"

"Sorry, 'Mione."

"Let's hope he hasn't found out yet," said Harry, gesturing for them to keep to the dark walls as they rounded a corner. "I don't see how he could have. The Founders' Rooms are carefully hidden - "

His sentence died a death as they came face to face with the broad, tall figure of a man, silhouetted in the darkness. In the dim light Harry could see the menacing glint of a wand pointing straight at them. Hermione gasped, clutching at Ron in shock.

"You three are becoming a bloody liability!" The intense tones of Remus Lupin were unmistakable. "What the hell do you think you're doing lurking in the corridors at this time of night?"

"We might ask the same of you!" retorted Harry, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping to the Founders' Rooms?"

"I was tracking that idiot Malfoy, if you must know. I trust you were doing the same?"

Harry nodded. "Did you discover where he had been?"

Remus shook his head. "No, unfortunately. It was somewhere on this floor, but I lost him in the darkness. He could have gone anywhere."

"Have you been prowling the school all night?" asked Hermione, with wide eyes.

"A good part of it, yes." Remus was scouring the length of the hallway, and only half listening to them.

"Where are we? I'm totally disorientated!" whispered Hermione.

"Just opposite Godric Gryffindor," replied Remus, his eyes glittering like stars in the night.

"How can you tell? I can't see a thing!"

Remus' lips broke into a sly smile. "I'm a wolf, Hermione."

Jus then somebody made a quick movement, pushing Harry up against the wall. He heard the faint 'oomph' as Hermione fell against him.

"Sssh!" hissed Remus, urgently. "Keep quiet! Don't move an eyelash!"

Harry strained his eyes to see what Remus was watching at the end of the corridor. A robed figure was passing a window, illuminated temporarily by the moonlight. It was coming steadily towards them, moving with a frightening grace and ease. It was not Malfoy this time.

Remus waited until the clicking of boot heels was as close as possible before emerging from the shadows with astonishing speed and agility. Whatever he did went unseen, partly because of the throttling darkness, and partly because a sudden movement beside them indicated that the doorway below Godric Gryffindor had swung aside, admitting a sixth person into the corridor. The clouds shifted conveniently at that moment, flooding the floor with silver light.

It had all happened simultaneously, and Harry didn't know where to look or what to do. Remus had the mysterious visitor in a tight grip, bending one arm hard behind its back, his hand over the mouth to prevent outcry.

"Get back!"

The voice was Sirius' - it had been he who had come from the secret passage - and he placed himself firmly between the trio and the struggling form in Remus' grip, wand poised.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Remus, punctuating his question with a rough shake. Without releasing his hold, he twisted the figure around to force back the cowl and view the face -

A sheet of rich, mahogany hair slipped out as its confining hood was pulled back. It was the girl Harry and the others had seen in the Gallery with Sirius the night before. Sirius drew in a breath - Harry felt him tense like a cat about to pounce.

A look of shock passed over Remus' face as he stared into the flashing eyes of the girl in front of him. Harry took an involuntary step backwards at the sight of his expression, echoed down to every last detail on the visage of the girl. Their eyes were alive with fire.

"Truth!" he breathed. The single syllable fell from his lips like a drop of iridescent liquid.

"Remus!"

Sirius, shaking himself free of the tension that had seized him at that first second of recognition, pushed the three towards the entrance to the passageway.

"Get the hell out of here!" he muttered.

Both pairs of glowing eyes turned to Sirius, piercing through the gloom like sparks of lightning. Harry had never encountered such open hostility in his life.

The emergence from the passageway of an orange lantern broke the atmosphere almost at once, followed by Professor Dumbledore himself. He took one sweeping glance at the assembly, his eyes coming to rest upon Remus and the girl.

"Ah. Miss Kristatos, at last. I see you have been taken for an intruder. Perhaps you would care to come with me? We have much to talk about, I think."

He smiled kindly at the girl, holding out a hand to lead her inside the passage. She did not smile back, her eyes still ablaze, but glanced back at Remus until Dumbledore drew her away. She cast the stoniest glare Harry had ever seen at Sirius as she passed him. Dumbledore paused in the doorway to view the remaining five, lingering upon Remus. He said nothing, and drew the door up behind him, leaving them in the corridor.

Harry moved his eyes between Sirius and Remus, who stared at each other like two duellists preparing to run the other through.

"Remus - I - " The words caught in Sirius' throat, and he could not speak.

Remus made no response, but stepped backwards into the shadows, his eyes never leaving his friend's. His form disappeared into the regathered darkness, walking briskly away from them, up the hallway.

"For the love of heaven, go back to Gryffindor Tower," said Sirius, following the fading click of boot heels intently. His voice was tinged with anger and frustration, and brooked no comment from any of them.

Wordlessly, they obeyed.

***

The sun would be up soon. It was still cold - the wind had risen overnight, and it felt like rain. One could almost smell thunder in the air.

_Pathetic fallacy_, thought Sirius, morbidly.

He peered into his mirror through half-lidded eyes, noting the dark shadow that was growing stubble on his jaw and cheeks. In a hopeless attempt to ease the throbbing muscle in his shoulder, he rubbed it, absently.

Everything ached, from his head to his feet. He had traversed perhaps every passage and corridor in the school in the small hours of the night, searching for him. To no avail.

The light in the mirror shifted, and he raised his eyes to his reflection again.

She stood in the doorway, a vision of loveliness in black and midnight indigo, hair tumbling loose over slim, bared shoulders. The years hadn't changed her. 

Sirius felt his heart descend into his boots.

"You knew, didn't you?" Her voice was soft and menacing. "You knew all these months and you never told me!"

"What was I supposed to say?" he exclaimed, despair giving in to frustration. "'Dear Truth - mission accomplished - Sirius Black. Oh, P.S. - Remus Lupin isn't dead'?"

His aggressive tone made her blink, but otherwise she showed no sign of fear or sympathy.

"Do you think it was fair to let me go on believing that he was?" she said, hoarsely. "How long have we been corresponding now? Six months? Four months? Didn't you suppose I would find out eventually?"

He fought to regain control of his voice before replying. "I hoped to tell you in more propitious circumstances, preferably face to face."

"Face to face would have been a good way for me to find out. My face to yours, not mine to his! Not like that! Did you care to enlighten him when you found out I had escaped? No - I didn't think so. Gods, I knew that wild howl the other night! I knew it like I know my own voice, but I told myself it was impossible! Why didn't you tell me then and there?"

"I was about to when we were disturbed!" His eyes sought hers again, and he broke off at once. No-one could confuse him like she could. "Truth, I'm sorry. I've never been more sorry for anything in my life, and Merlin knows I have a lot to regret. It's just - it's been so long since - and I thought - "

"I know." Her voice was warm and rich, like melted chocolate, and she rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.

She was here. She understood. She could help him - both of them.

"I can't find him," he said. "I've been looking all night, and I can't find him."

"Leave him to me."

Sirius turned and stared into her dark eyes. They were averted, staring blankly at a point beyond his shoulder. She looked so sweet and vulnerable, but he knew better than to believe it. Seven years of living in close quarters with this woman had made him come to realize that appearances can be deceptive.

He watched her eyes move back to lock with his, flashing determined fire - the fire that buoyed him as it did everyone who had ever known her.

"I've got to face him sometime," she said, firmly. "Besides - I know where he is."

"Where?"

She smiled, mysteriously, and moved towards the door. "I'll find you later. _Herete_."

And she was gone. Just like that.

Sirius turned back to the mirror, scowling at the apparition that faced him in the glass. He had no doubt at all that she would do a better job of smoothing the waters than he could. 

His time in Azkaban had been a time of torture, as he had gone over and over in his mind the ghastly visions and memories that clung to him in the pestilent air of the prison cell that was his world. Three years of freedom had begun to thaw the icy tomb of his heart, steeped in misery and regret, but seeing her again -

Once more he cursed himself for persuading James to change his mind. His had been the first action in a chain of disaster that cost two of his best friends their lives, condemned two others to brutal captivity and perhaps death, and forced Remus into a life of ghostly despair, seemingly the last of them all to survive. Since that terrible day, he had been delivered of his imprisonment, reprieved publicly for all the wizarding world to see. He and Remus were working side-by-side in the organisation that had been the uniting factor all those years before. And now Truth had come home to join them.

Sirius kicked the dressing table with an outcry of frustration. 

He let his aching head fall into his hands, fighting the overwhelming wave of remorse and anger that bubbled up inside him like a poisonous spring.

He could only pray that they would forgive him.

***

She found him in the hours before dawn, in that mysterious moment between night and day that so few ever see. Something drew her to him like a magnet, powered by emotions and memories that crowned the distant past. Every step of the way, every wall and panel and doorway she remembered through fifteen years of time as though she had never been away.

There was a balcony on the fourth floor, too high up to climb from the ground, hidden from prying eyes by veils of fragrant boughs and vines that clung to ornate pillars. There was one way to reach it, and one alone - through a secret door whose secret had long been forgotten. Perhaps only he and she knew about it in all the world.

She smiled as she made the familiar journey through dusty corridors, remembering the day they had found it. They had been fifteen, and so innocent. He would always go there to think.

The fresh, cool wind of night-time brushed her bare skin like gentle, caressing fingers. The scent of honeysuckle and luscious greenery and silver starlight coiled in the air like a cloud, calming and invigorating the senses as one.

He was leaning on the stone balustrade, looking out towards the Forbidden Forest in the blueness of an approaching dawn. His dark shirt pulled across the lean muscles of his back, outlining a form that she had never known. The slim, boyish friend of her youth had disappeared - to be replaced by this astounding image of classical beauty and virility.

She had believed him to be long gone from the world, preserved forever as little more than a boy on the threshold of manhood. Suddenly, to see him again, was like reliving the dream that had clouded her sleep for fifteen years.

Her dark eyes travelled bravely over him, while he stood with his back to her, taking in every detail from the firm line of his neck, where wavy tendrils of sleek hair brushed his skin, down his strong, tapering back to his dragon-hide boots.

Her heart was beating a wild rhythm inside her, like a hundred African drummers in the primal heat of their spirited land. With the keen sense of a tigercat she narrowed her eyes, finding the scent of him in the air and drawing it deep into her lungs. Words were impossible - and what could she have said anyway? Slowly she moved closer, until mere inches separated her from him. 

_Just to touch him. Just once, to feel the heat of flesh and blood to make sure that he was real._

"I felt you come," he said, his voice deep and hoarse. He did not turn to look at her. "I always knew when you were near." His scent was strong now, as her fingertips brushed his warm back. The intoxicating masculine scent of musk and pine-needles and cold, crystal forest streams. "I've been awake all night. I was afraid to sleep in case I woke up and found that you were a dream - again."

"Remus - " 

He couldn't look at her. He would lose his mind and all control. Her touch alone was like a spark against tinder. One brief glance over his shoulder would become a long, lingering gaze of heat and desire, fuelled by fifteen years of fitful dreams and painfully dry eyes when he would never let the tears come. She had died that night, to live on as a beloved ghost in his bruised heart. 

Answers. He needed answers.

"What happened?"

She let her eyelids flutter shut, resting her palms against the hard planes of his back.

"It was so dark, I couldn't see. I heard your voice calling for me but I couldn't reach you. Miranda was screaming, and there were bright lights. I tripped over something on the floor - something soft and warm. I knew it was her before a glow behind me lit up her face. It - it was the worst thing I had ever seen, all black and faceless and cold. I wanted to die. I wanted it to stop before I splintered into pieces, but it kept coming and coming. "When I woke up - nothing but blackness and shadows, and that horrible, horrible iciness. I was there for days while they asked me questions, breaking me with _Veritas_ and _Crucio_ until I thought my body had sizzled into ashes. They told me we were finished, all of us. They told me I was strong while all the others were weak - that I was the last of Phoenix ranks and I would die in the end if I refused to help them. I broke away in the night - God knows how I got out without being seen, but I did. All I remember is crawling half alive into a forest and summoning all I had left to Apparate to The Chamber. I passed out at Dumbledore's feet, with all the Ministers looking on. 

"When I regained consciousness, my mother and sisters were bending over me. I was in my own bed at home - I could smell the sea and the fruit. I was out of my mind for weeks, but soon I was well enough to sit on the beach and watch the world go on as normal, while the bodies of my friends lay unheeded and unavenged on the cold floor of a dark forest. 

"Dumbledore came to me. He sat with me all night on the sands while the tide kept coming in, closer and closer. If he hadn't lifted me in his arms and carried me home I would have stayed there until the sea claimed me for dead. He told me about Sirius. I knew it was wrong - I knew he would never have betrayed the secret. Dumbledore knew too, but he was as helpless as I. 

"After that night, I decided to live again. For years I came and went between embassies and headquarters all over Europe trying to get him out of there, but no-one would listen. Then he managed it himself, and I could have cried for joy. Six months ago Dumbledore wrote to me, asking me to come back and rejoin him in the battle against Voldemort. He said that I owed it to Harry to help avenge Lily and James. Sirius wrote to me too, and kept me informed of their plans. Dumbledore had told him what had happened to me, and that I was alive in my little town on the edge of the sea. Yes, he knew before Russia. Neither of them told me, and I don't know why. Remus - I would have come back straight away if I had known - "

The scene before his eyes had vanished, replaced by a cloudy mist of anger and half-forgotten sensations. Only the blinking pin-pricks of the stars penetrated into his vision. Through his wild confusion, a single voice called to him, begging for his touch and comfort. She hadn't spoken aloud, but he felt her need as much as he felt his own.

Her eyes as he turned to look at them were shining with tears, gazing up at him innocently and openly. One moment was all it took for him to reach out and draw her close to him, enveloping her in a warm cocoon of tenderness and strength.

"Truth." She felt the breathless smile in the way he pronounced her name, as though he was trying to make her presence seem real. "The demons of hell couldn't break you, and now you cry."

She jerked her head up suddenly. "I never cry!"

Her glaring eyes glowed with the familiar fire he had known and loved, and he laughed aloud. Raising a gentle hand, he brushed away the moisture clinging to her cheeks.

"God damn it, Remus, you always do this!"

He caught her as she turned away, piqued, trapping her against his chest with one arm. "You never liked admitting that, did you?"

She frowned, furiously, until the steadiness of his eyes calmed her again. This was right, just as it used to be. She had always detested sympathy, like she detested playing the damsel in distress. He had been the only person in the world to truly understand that, and he still did. A sharp provocation or a firm shake helped her more than an eloquent speech full of flattery. 

She laughed softly, trying to make it sound grudging. It was hard when her heart threatened to burst with relief and happiness.

"And you?" she said, firmly. "What happened that night?"

Remus took a deep breath, glancing into her eyes briefly before beginning an aimless wander along the length of the balcony. "I went deeper into the woods, trying to find you. Why they couldn't find me I don't know, since I was yelling your name loud enough. I can't remember exactly, but somehow I was knocked out. When I came round, there were people coming into the forest - people from The Order and the Ministry. We couldn't find a trace of you or Miranda. Three weeks later we found Frank and Alice and broke them out, but it was too late. I expect you found out - "

She nodded, sadly, walking beside him. "Dumbledore explained when he told me the news of Sirius."

"We turned the whole place upside down looking for you and Miranda, just in case they'd taken you as well. There was no sign of either of you, and in the light of what you've told me, you had already broken out before we got there. And Miranda - "

Truth laid her hand against his arm. "She was not there, Remus. I would have known if she had been. They killed her. They must have done."

He nodded, accepting the fact as the inevitable.

"Why didn't he tell us?" he said, with undertones of wrathfulness. 

"Dumbledore? I don't know. Perhaps we might ask him one day."

"Why did he call you here?"

She smiled. "For the same reason you and Sirius are here. For the sake of one young man who looks absurdly like his father, and his ridiculously loyal friends."

"We were ridiculously loyal friends once too, you know." There was an amused glint in his eye as he circled her shoulders with an arm, guiding her back along the balcony to their original place.

"Of course we were. And I salute all ridiculously loyal friends all over the world. Especially these two! I am looking forward to meeting them."

"Three, I think you'll find. Don't leave Ginny out - she'll be mortified!"

"Sirius spoke of her as well."

Remus' face took on a powerful glare. "Remind me to kill him when all this is over."

"He's hurting too," she said. "He blames himself for everything, I can tell."

His eyes glanced down at her. She had moved in front of him, resting her hands on the balustrade to gaze out towards the rising sun, pink and gold against a backdrop of azure blue. Carefully he placed his hands either side of hers, laying his cheek against her temple. She leaned backwards, moulding into the curve of his body until her head fell onto his shoulder.

"You always could read minds, Kristatos," he laughed. "It's an unnerving habit, you know."

"It's not minds that I read, Lupin. And it depends on the countenance of the individual. Sirius used to be an open book, although his eyes are darker now."

"And me?"

"Damned hard." 

He smiled, nostalgically. "You learned in the end."

"It took enough time!"

"Only you could have managed it. Lily always complained about my reticence."

"Do you think she knows?" asked Truth, dreamily.

"I bet she's smiling," he answered. "And probably crying, if I know our Lily. We must all look ridiculous to her and James, running around in circles without knowing what's going on."

Truth burst into laughter - a sweet, melodious trill that delighted him, like rich wine and a warm fire on a winter's evening. It had been so long since he'd heard it.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up at his patiently quizzical expression. "It's just that I can see her now, tugging on James' sleeve shrieking 'look behind you!' at the top of her voice."

Remus laughed into her hair, taking her familiar scent deep into his lungs. 

"I've missed you, Remus Lupin," she said, after a while. "There's so much I want to ask you and tell you, but I can't think where to start!"

"There's no rush," he replied, softly. "Suddenly we're at the beginning again, and we've got all the time in the world."


	27. Plots, Espionage and Kissing

****

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Plots, Espionage and Kissing

Hermione broke with her rule for once. She sat on the edge of one of the windowsills in the boys' dormitory, swinging her legs, her eyes fixed on Ron's face. He was staring into mid-air with his forehead creased in thought, and an adorable tendril of thick red hair flopped across his right eye giving him a rakish appearance. For once, she was finding it hard to concentrate on the matter in hand. At regular intervals, Harry would pass between her and the object of her attention as he paced the length of the room, and it was in those brief moments that she forced her mind back to what was being discussed. 

"I don't get it," said Ron, suddenly. He flicked the tendril of hair out of his line of vision. "Who the heck is this woman?"

Nobody answered, and for a moment it seemed that his question had gone unheeded until Harry came to a standstill at the foot of the bed.

"To be honest, Ron, I'm more bothered about Malfoy."

Hermione gave a concurrent nod from her vantage point. "Truth is here to help The Order, Malfoy - well, he isn't, is he? He might be doing all sorts of damage."

"Like what? What can he do?"

He looked directly at her for the first time since his ambiguous statement in the common room earlier that evening. She managed to answer without a trace of emotion. "Well, we all know Lucius Malfoy is the world's greatest Death Eater. Anything Draco can find out about The Order would be helpful to him."

"Yes, that's a point," said Harry, thoughtfully. "We still don't know where the rest of The Order is, do we? Remember what Remus told us before we left The Burrow? The Order is re-establishing a headquarters and planned to meet this week!"

"Perhaps that's why Remus and Sirius weren't here today," suggested Hermione, dropping to her feet.

Harry shook his head. "No, Snape and McGonagall were here all day. I think the new headquarters is here."

"Hogwarts?"

"Doesn't it make sense?" Harry resumed his pacing, gesturing randomly with his hands as he spoke. "Hogwarts is the safest place in the country, more or less. I mean, it's one of the few places which could be used as a fortress or a hiding place in an emergency. Think of all the protective spells it has!"

Hermione let out an excited squeal. "Yes! I read about those in _Hogwarts: A History. _There are over four hundred different spells in place all over the castle and the grounds, and nothing can penetrate them because there are so many!"

Ron's expression shifted into a sly grin. "And of course, nobody can Apparate inside the grounds."

Hermione's jaw dropped open. "Finally!" she exclaimed. "You remembered!"

_Oh my God, I wish he wouldn't smile at me like that when there's someone else in the room!_

"And not only that, but look at all the secrets it has," Harry went on. "Do you remember Dumbledore himself saying that he still didn't know everything there was to know about Hogwarts, even after all the years he's been here. Even the Marauders never knew about the Founders' Rooms!"

Ron leaned his chin on his hand. "Mmm. It's perfect, really, isn't it? It's big, it's well-protected, it's got Dumbledore in it - what more do you need?"

"Order members," said Harry. "If we're right then the place will be swarming with Order members within the next few days, and Malfoy will have a field day snooping around. Even several dozen Aurors couldn't arrive at the castle unseen. Especially since they can't Apparate."

"Yeah, I was wondering when you two were going to spot the Slytherin element," said Ron, narrowing his eyes. "A quarter of the wizarding world is made up of them, and I doubt there's a place anywhere in the world with so many gathered in one building as Hogwarts! Loads of them have Death Eater parents! It's the stupidest idea I've ever heard bringing The Order here!"

"We're just going to have to watch Malfoy," declared Hermione, firmly. "He's Head Boy, he's Mr Popular - he'll be the one in charge of any Slytherin conspiracy."

"Oh yeah, and that's going to be easy!" snorted Ron. "How can we possibly tail him all the time? Not even Harry's cloak can get us in and out of the Slytherin common room every night of the year!"

"Don't be obtuse, Ron," said Hermione. "We won't have to do that."

"No?"

"He can only cause trouble by spying on the fourth floor, which he can only do effectively at night. Even then, as long as he doesn't inform his father about what he's found out, there's no danger. So we just have to make sure he doesn't inform his father."

Ron stared at her for a moment, and then fell back onto the bed with a groan of hysterical laughter.

"Well, if you've got a plan about how to manage that, 'Mione, then let us know sometime," said Harry, viewing Ron's shaking form with consternation. "Right now I think we're about to be interrupted."

The door swung open, admitting Dean, Seamus and Neville.

"Sorry to barge in," said Dean, stifling a yawn. "But I'm knackered. Sod off, Hermione."

Hermione poked her tongue out at him as he collapsed onto his bed, and stalked out without another word.

"Where have you three been?" inquired Ron, suspiciously.

"Around," replied Dean, tossing his discarded garments onto the floor.

"We had a nice moonlight game of Quidditch, if you must know," said Seamus, with a meaningful glance at Harry.

"How romantic," murmured Harry, making for the bathroom door. Six years of practice had taught him that speed and cunning was of the essence if one wanted a hot shower and dry towels and an atmosphere that wasn't damp with steam.

"It's pitch black, how could you see?" asked Ron, balancing precariously on the foot of his bed.

Dean sat down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Well," he began, seriously, "it's like this, Ron. We stood in a line on the Quidditch pitch and raised our hands to the sky and cried in tribal chants: 'Oh magnificent Sun, give us light to play Quidditch by!' - " He paused to leisurely swipe Ron across the back of the head. "Magic, you twat! What did you think?"

Seamus snorted with laughter. "Perhaps we could conjure up a practice timetable too!"

Harry whirled round and planted his hands on his hips. "OK, fine. You win! I'll do the damned timetable now, before I sleep. Does that suit you?"

Seamus slapped him on the back and grinned. "Cheers, mate. See you tomorrow!"

Three sets of bed curtains closed with a clatter, leaving Ron and Harry staring at each other across the room.

***

Hermione stopped on the other side of the boys' door, considering her options. She wouldn't sleep if she went up to bed - there were too many things buzzing in her head. To sit up until the small hours with a huge mug of hot chocolate, chatting woman to woman like she did at home with her mother - that would be nice.

A slight sound on the lower stairs caught her attention just in time for her to spot Ginny creeping down into the common room, as noiselessly as an owl.

"And where are you off to, Miss Weasley?" she inquired, leaning against the archway.

Ginny whirled around and let out a sigh of relief when she saw who it was. "Nowhere. I just couldn't sleep and I fancied a cup of tea."

"That's handy," said Hermione with a smile. She flicked her wand and two enormous mugs appeared on the coffee table beside the fire. "Help yourself! Give me thirty seconds and I'll change into my pyjamas." She dashed up the stairs and crept into the dormitory she shared with Parvati and Lavender - both fast asleep with the curtains of their beds closed. Hermione could hear Lavender snoring slightly, and closed the door as quietly as she could as she tiptoed out onto the stairs.

"You're a useful little thing to have around the place, 'Mione," said Ginny, as they settled into their armchairs sipping their drinks.

"Well, I do my best."

"What are you doing up so late anyway?"

Hermione shrugged. "The boys managed to get me riled up again. Why is it that whenever I'm in the same room as your brother for more than twenty minutes at a time, I come out feeling like I've recited the dictionary?"

Ginny laughed. "You probably have! I apologise for his idiocy. I can't imagine where he gets it from."

Hermione stared into space over the rim of her mug, hoping she wasn't blushing. The memory of that sly smile and that rakish tendril of hair would come back to haunt her for a good many nights to come. "It's odd, actually. He was making quite a lot of sense tonight."

"What were you talking about?"

Hermione explained how they had found Malfoy sneaking around the fourth floor that evening, and their suspicions about the new Order headquarters. Ginny remained in rapt silence until she finished.

"And now they think there's going to be a mass uprising of Slytherins which we alone are going to combat!" She rolled her eyes.

"They're only kids, most of them," Ginny pointed out. "Draco is the only one who could do any real damage, his father being what he is."

"Exactly."

"I could watch him," suggested Ginny, averting her eyes.

Hermione studied her face, wreathed in shadow. She was wrapped in a grey and green tartan blanket, her fiery hair lying loose over her shoulders and breast. The strands of coppery red glittered gold where they caught the light of the fire, darkening her eyes and bringing a rich glow to her cheekbones. She looked like a Medieval queen giving orders for execution or war.

"I have to confess that I did consider that," admitted Hermione, hesitantly. "But on top of everything else that's the last thing you need."

"Where's the difficulty? I see him so often as it is. It would be giving the torturous hours I have to spend alone with him a real meaning."

Hermione fancied that the slight movement of Ginny's lips and the glint in her eyes that accompanied it were indications that if Ginny couldn't deal with Draco Malfoy, no woman alive could do it.

"You're a braver woman than I am," she said after a while. "And I don't want you to do it. Ron will kill us both if he finds out, and Harry will dismember our remains and curse us into eternity. They both drive _me_ mad most of the time, but I'd rather not make either of _them_ mad if I can help it."

Ginny considered. "They still don't know, do they?"

Hermione shook her head. "No - although Harry thinks you're carrying on an illicit relationship with Malfoy."

"He doesn't!" exclaimed Ginny, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Yeah, he does. And he'll rip Malfoy to shreds if he gives him half an excuse."

Ginny leaned back in her chair with a sigh, her gaze fixed on the wall behind Hermione.

"Don't you think you should tell him?" persisted Hermione.

"Tell him what?"

"Everything?"

"No, not yet. You know what he'd say, and Ron too."

"You can't keep this charade up forever!"

"No, but I can keep it up as long as I can until one of them finds out. Which will probably be at the Christmas Ball."

Hermione stared. "Christmas Ball? There's a Christmas Ball?"

Ginny's set face softened into a smile. "Yes. We were told today by Dumbledore. He's going to make an announcement tomorrow at breakfast."

"Oh Merlin, that's the last thing we need!"

"How do you mean?"

Hermione could hardly give credit to the situation. Surely Ginny wasn't so obtuse as she failed to recognise the extent of Harry's feelings for her? _But then _- she thought, pensively - _perhaps it's a Weasley family trait. _"Think about it - Malfoy will be leering at you all night long, and you won't be able to fight him off if he catches you in a corner, and you'll probably have to dance with him in front of everyone. Which means Ron will be unbearable all evening and Harry will go outside before ten o'clock and start throwing things. Ginny - this is bad!"

Ginny waved her hand impatiently. "Oh, you can handle Ron and Harry! And don't worry about Malfoy." Her eyes narrowed again with that menacing cunning. "_I_ can handle _him_!"

Hermione sat back and viewed her through coils of steam rising from her mug, a wide grin lighting up her features. More than ever Ginny looked the regal Medieval queen, with Draco as the unfortunate enemy. Hermione half expected to see her click her fingers and summon a guard to bring the death warrant for her to sign with a satisfied flourish. "You know what, Ginny Weasley? I think Mr Malfoy is about to meet his match."

Ginny smiled back.

***

Ron ran his eyes suspiciously over Hermione as she joined them in the Great Hall. The Gryffindor seventh years were almost the last ones left eating breakfast, except for a few small groups scattered across the other three House tables.

"You're late," he said, arching an eyebrow.

"Don't lecture, Ron," she sighed, reaching for the toast rack. 

"Where were you this morning? Harry and I waited for you for over half an hour in the common room, didn't we, Harry?"

"Mmm," muttered Harry, automatically. He had no idea what he was responding to, since Ginny had followed Hermione in and was sitting a little way away between Neville and Dean.

She looked tired, he thought. There was something dull about her usually bright eyes, but she covered it well. She always managed to look beautiful.

"Ginny and I were talking, if you must know," Hermione was saying, heatedly.

Ron scowled. "And I suppose you're not going to explain why she's acting so strangely?"

"No, I'm not, and don't bully her."

"I never bully her!"

Harry sighed and refilled his mug with coffee. His head was throbbing, and all he could see in his mind was the image of that Quidditch timetable, etched into his brain after over an hour of concentration in the middle of the night. That, of course, and Ginny. She was never out of his head for a single moment.

He listened to Ron and Hermione exchanging the usual arguments. They had moved on from Ginny now, and were on the subject of the Christmas Ball.

That had been a bombshell. Dumbledore had announced it before the girls had come down, and suddenly the Great Hall had been filled with excited mutterings and discussion about dresses and hairstyles and so on. How Hermione had got to hear about it was a mystery to him, but still - she was always knowing things she shouldn't know about.

"You look exhausted, Harry," she said after a while. Evidently she had won the argument, judging by Ron's slightly flushed face and glaring eyes. He felt a cool hand on his shoulder.

"Quidditch timetable," he replied, anticipating her next question. It wasn't an entire lie - he _had_ been working late on the timetable - but the hours between two and four had been spent lying awake thinking about Ginny. The recurring dream had kept him from sleeping - Ginny dancing in his arms under the stars, dressed in a filmy gold ball-gown with her head resting on his shoulder. Always the same dream, every night, always ending the same way. She would gaze up at him, a few stray tendrils of hair escaping from her elegant chignon and falling across her temples, and she would say, 'Harry - what's that star up there? That really bright one above the Astronomy Tower?'. He would follow her gaze up into the skies as they stopped dancing, returning his eyes to her beautiful face and speaking softly while he tilted her head upwards to him. 'Venus ascending'. Every time he would wake up suddenly, just as his lips touched hers.

After the first few times he had started to believe that it was a product of his frustrated desires at his birthday party. The situation was the same - Ginny in his arms while they danced. It was even the same song playing. But everything else was different.

He pushed his coffee mug away and rose to his feet quickly.

"I'll catch you later, 'Mione," he said. "Quidditch practise in an hour, Ron."

They stared at his departing back.

"Is he OK?" Hermione asked, leaning across the table and speaking in a low voice that only Ron could hear.

"Bad dreams," replied Ron, also leaning forward.

"Bad dreams! You mean he's having his old nightmares?"

"No, not those bad dreams. He was tossing and turning quite a bit, but he always does these days. I saw him get up and walk around the room for quite a while in the small hours. He was pretty stressed."

"Did you talk to him?"

Ron frowned. They had exchanged a few hesitant, unenlightening phrases on the top of the tower, but he couldn't very well tell Hermione that. The principle reason for them sneaking up there was so Harry could get some air and he could have a cigarette without anyone knowing.

"Nah, not really," he replied. "But I think it's Ginny. Seriously 'Mione, can't you persuade her to - I don't know - do something?"

Hermione's lips twitched in the manner he always found achingly attractive. "Like throw herself on him one night and start declaring her undying love? Really, Ron, that's not such a good idea."

"No, I meant disillusion him of this stupid idea he's got that she's seeing Malfoy. It's killing him!"

Hermione stared at him suspiciously. "You don't seem worried."

He shrugged. "I know my sister. Whatever else she may be doing with Malfoy it's not snogging him - of that I am certain!"

"We need to engineer a situation then, don't we?"

"He could try asking her to the Ball, I suppose. That's generally considered to be a romantic attention."

Hermione didn't miss the sarcasm in his voice, and she glared at him. "Don't you dare rake all that up again, Weasley."

He feigned incredulousness. "What?"

"You know perfectly well what! If you so much as mention a certain Bulgarian Seeker I will strangle you!"

"Oh, you mean Vicky!"

He had meant it as a provocation, and expected a verbal onslaught all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, and was therefore quite surprised when she rose to her feet and viewed him through narrowed eyes. She turned and walked slowly towards the Entrance Hall, her head held high. He decided to follow in silence, waiting for her to speak first.

"Ron Weasley, you git!" she yelled, rounding on him as he placed a foot on the bottom step of the Marble Staircase. She was the same height as him now, standing a couple of steps higher up, which made counter attack rather difficult as she leapt upon him.

"Ouch! 'Mione, get off!"

Eventually he caught her and pinned her between the bannister and himself, holding her wrists tightly behind her back. She giggled as he towered over her again. Her hair had come loose, and she looked so sweet and vulnerable. The temptation just to kiss her right then and there was horrifyingly strong.

"Mr Weasley! Miss Granger!"

Professor McGonagall stood at the foot of the stairs, extremely shocked and put out. "If you don't mind, would you please refrain from that kind of behaviour on the staircase? Off to your common room, at once!"

She shooed them upwards, and they broke into a run as they gained the first floor.

"Ooops!" said Ron, taking her hand and pulling her along with him.

"We're lucky that didn't get us detention, Ron!"

"Oh, stop worrying!"

"_Detention_, Ron!"

"You started it!"

"No, I didn't! You said the V-word and I warned you not to!"

"Why didn't you want me to say it?" He slowed his pace and glanced sideways at her. She blushed.

"Because we've already argued about it and there's nothing left to say."

"Did you like him?"

Her heart stopped. Never, _never, ever _had he been so blunt before.

"I - er - I, I mean - no, no, not like _that_!"

Anything else she meant to add went unsaid, because suddenly she found herself unable to utter a word.

Ron pulled her behind a tall marble statue and took her face in his hands. His warm lips pressed against hers before she could register what was happening.

Her back sank against the stone wall and she reached a hand out behind her to brace herself, the other clutching Ron's shoulder. If he let go of her now she would collapse onto the floor in an inelegant heap of hormones and liquidised limbs. What had begun as firm but chaste abruptly became passionate as she felt the delicate touch of his tongue running along her sensitive lower lip. This wasn't the first time she had been kissed - Victor had made a couple of clumsy attempts a few years before - but this was like nothing she had ever felt, made all the more intense by it's spontaneity and unexpectedness.

A small group of second year Ravenclaw girls hurried past, giggling and nudging each other. They stared rather rudely until they turned the corner.

Forced by the inconvenient need for air, Ron drew away. He gazed down into her face, flushed with heat. Her hair had fallen free of its ponytail now, and he found the limp band tangled around his fingers from where he had pulled it out in the force of the kiss. Her lips were slightly swollen and shiny with moisture, beckoning him to repeat the gesture.

"Gods, 'Mione, I'm sorry," he said, in a choked voice. He had to get away, and fast. She was driving him wild, and she would probably hit him at any moment if he gauged her astonished expression correctly.

_It's OK - really, it's OK. I've wanted this for so long._

At least, that was what she ought to have said. In actual fact what came out of her mouth was more along the lines of a muffled squeak and the single word 'It's'. Not very edifying or useful, but for some reason her tongue wouldn't do what her brain was telling it. Forming the correct words, that is.

He had backed away looking aghast, fleeing into the distance before she could get out a coherent sentence. Disappointment washed over her like a tidal wave, and she stood against the statue, too shocked to move. 

_Perhaps this was how Ginny felt after Harry's birthday _- she thought. _Suddenly horribly empty and bruised._ But then, Harry hadn't actually kissed her.

Conflicting feelings succeeded in temporarily numbing her confusion, and she made her way slowly up towards Gryffindor Tower. She needed Ginny.

Ginny would know what to do.


	28. Walking the Tightrope

****

Hello everyone! Sorry about the long wait!!! I'm managing to find some time to start writing again now, so keep on the lookout for more updates, hopefully soon! I have the rest of the story all planned in my head, I just need to write it out!!!

Thanks to all reviewers! And I promise we'll have a Harry 'n Ginny kiss very, very soon. ;-) Stay tuned!

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Walking the Tightrope

Harry stood at the common room window, glaring out at the grey horizon. If the truth be told, he was in no mood to organise six preoccupied, hysterical Quidditch players into a decent team, especially in the pouring rain. Ron was going to be late as usual, and he would have to bite his lip to keep back a cutting remark. The younger ones were always a handful, and Seamus would never keep quiet and let him think. And then there was Ginny, of course, who was the ever-present reminder that his life was pretty awful at the moment.

He was just trying to think about something else when Ron stormed through the portrait door, looking exactly as Harry felt, all wild eyes and tense muscles.

"Where have you been?" he asked, expecting to see the customary guilty flush creep onto his best friend's face.

"Nowhere," replied Ron, shiftily. He wouldn't catch Harry's eye.

"Are you OK?" 

"No."

Harry raised an eyebrow. This was no 'Oops, I'm late for Quidditch' guilty flush. This was an 'I've just done a really bad thing' guilty flush. He was debating whether or not to inquire further when Ron saved him the trouble by launching into a stilted monologue.

"You remember that time when I told you Hermione was a nightmare and it was no wonder that she had no friends?"

Harry nodded, his eyes following Ron as he began to pace agitatedly around the room, nervously prodding the chair backs and gesturing with his hands.

"And you remember how I gave her a hard time about Vicky at the Yule Ball in fourth year?"

Harry nodded again. He had no idea where this was going, but evidently Hermione was the problem.

"And you remember that time I called her a bossy cow on the way back from Oberon's Well?"

Harry nodded again. "Ron, sit down, you're going to cause terminal damage to something if you keep flailing around like that!"

"I'm an idiot," said Ron, forlornly.

"I know you are," agreed Harry, pushing him back into a chair. "Tell me what you've done. I'll hazard a guess that it's Hermione, yes?"

Ron groaned and raked his fingers through his hair. "I'm an idiot. I'm a bloody idiot!"

The portrait door swung open again and Ginny stepped through into the common room. Ron's face, which had taken on an expression of utter terror as the door began to creak, instantly relaxed.

"Ron," she said, making straight for her brother and looking scarily like Mrs Weasley in a bad mood. "You're an idiot! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, that's the point," said Ron, gloomily. "Don't rub it in, Gin. I already feel terrible."

Ginny's eyes were flashing fire. She stood at the side of his chair, arms crossed and slender figure tilted slightly at an angle. Harry tried not to let his eyes sweep hungrily over her as she glared at Ron.

"You didn't say anything!"

"I couldn't think what to say!"

"ANYTHING would have been good, Ron. Women have thrown themselves into the arms of other men for less than that!"

Ron half rose out of his chair, facing his sister with an equal glare. "Has she?"

"Of course not, you idiot!" exclaimed Ginny, despairingly. "But I can't vouch for the future. You'd better square this before the Ball or else she might do just that."

Ron sank back against the cushions with a small sigh. Ginny knelt down beside him and squeezed his hand, tenderness flooding her wide eyes.

"Only you can make it better," she said. "Only you knows how to make it better."

Silently, Ron replied with a barely perceptible nod of his head, still staring into space.

Harry watched the touching tableau in front of him with mixed feelings. He had a pretty good idea of what had happened now, and he sympathised with Ron's predicament. He was grateful for Ginny's timely intervention, for he wasn't sure he could have said the right thing himself. Still, an annoying little piece of his mind kept reminding him that he would have given much to have that tender gaze turned on him. Was he even capable of an unselfish thought these days, he wondered, or had Ginny actually taken over his head completely?

She caught his eye and held his gaze, smiling, the same sweet tenderness still shining in her face. His heart turned over.

_How am I ever going to get over this? _

"Quidditch," said Ron, suddenly, and the magic moment was shattered.

"What?" said Harry, tearing his eyes away from Ginny's.

"Let's play Quidditch. Thinking hurts my head."

He picked up the scarlet Gryffindor robes lying across the back of one of the chairs and flung them into Harry's arms. "Come on. We need to win that Slytherin match."

***

Harry's soul came alive as the cool autumn air blew against his face and the earth shrank into miniature form below him. Nothing could relieve his feelings like flying. It was like being reborn somehow, leaving all one's troubles behind on the ground and giving oneself over to the sky and the wind. Exhilarating; thrilling. It was in his blood, and he had never felt so free. He often thought of his father, the infamous Gryffindor Chaser, and how proud he would have been to see him captaining the best team in all of Hogwarts. It was with a small but familiar pang of regret that he envisioned raising that Quidditch Cup after the Slytherin match, without being able to search the crowds for a cheering, grinning paternal face. But Ginny always said that his father could see even more of his life from where he was than if he had been walking the earth like everyone else. Ginny always said the right thing.

For the first time in a long while, he smiled at the thought of her, without the surge of envy and disbelief which had been with him ever since Malfoy's cruel, ambiguous statement in the Great Hall a week or so ago.

She looked up at him as she glided past to take up her position, and delighted surprise filled her eyes when she saw him smile unreservedly at her.

"What?" she laughed.

He shrugged, still grinning. "I feel better, suddenly," he said.

A rosy flush stained her cheeks and she dropped her eyes. Elation swept over him like a tidal wave, and he knew that blush was for him.

"I still can't believe Malfoy managed to stay on as Quidditch Captain when Dumbledore made him Head Boy," Seamus was saying to Alex Wright, a sixth year Beater. They came to a gentle stop beside Harry and Ginny, followed by the rest of the team.

"He's the only one of the upper school Slytherins who can sit on a broomstick, let alone play Quidditch on one," replied Ginny, tying her flaming hair back into a plait.

Ron snorted and looked mutinous. Grudgingly, Harry was forced to admit that she was right, but his insides writhed at hearing Ginny defend Malfoy.

_Focus, Potter. Quidditch!_

"We'll show him!" said Seamus, sporting a glare that rivalled even Ron's. "I wouldn't mind knocking him off his broomstick from a great height!"

"That's Harry's job," laughed Sarah Price, the only fifth year on the team.

Harry tried not to catch Ginny's eye for fear of what he'd see.

"Come on, get into your places," he commanded, rising higher to look down at the formations. "Same warm-up as usual." He glanced up towards the dark, gathering clouds. "It will rain soon, so we need to get started."

Ten minutes passed before Harry realised that neither Ginny nor Ron were paying any attention to what he was saying, or anything else for that matter. Ron managed to miss four saves in a row and Ginny was plainly distracted by something. The rain had started coming down too, heavy enough to make visibility rather poor. The faint rumble of distant thunder rolled around the stadium, as though a giant somewhere in the hills had let loose a huge steel ball in the sky.

"Sorry," mumbled Ron, as the Quaffle sped through one of the hoops for the fifth time.

"Do you want a break, Ron?" asked Harry, concernedly. He knew better than anyone that Ron had a habit of losing confidence if he played badly at practice. Besides, he was in no fit state to be practising at the moment.

"Nah, I'm fine," was the gloomy reply.

If Ron was trying to keep his mind off Hermione by playing Quidditch, it plainly wasn't working, thought Harry. Still, he was hardly able to comment, his eyes often straying towards a certain red-haired vision gliding around the stadium, graceful despite the heavy rain that soaked her robes. 

Out of the corner of his eye Harry noticed a small, dark figure stroll along the edge of the pitch, wrapped in scarves and a large duffel coat. Even from such a height in the murky rain he knew immediately who it was, and he looked across at Ron.

"Oh no," came a soft voice beside him. Ginny was hovering at his shoulder, her eyes fixed on the distant form of Hermione.

Ron had also seen her. Harry could see the flash of his blue eyes as he stared down at her.

"Oh no!" gasped Ginny again. "Harry!"

"What?" He turned to look at her in surprise.

He saw what she had seen two seconds too late. Just as a stabbing pain lanced through his ear as she shrieked out her brother's name, the heavy, speeding Bludger crashed into the side of Ron's head.

***

Instinctively Harry's fingers tightened around his Firebolt. Ginny's wild cry was still echoing through his head as he sped down after the heap of red robes and tangled limbs that was dropping like a stone towards the hard ground.

With inches to spare, Harry reached out his arms and clutched at whatever part of Ron he could reach, breaking his fall. They landed side by side on the damp grass, with Harry's Firebolt between them.

Shaking his head to bring himself to his senses, Harry crawled over to Ron, dreading what he was about to find.

"Don't move him!" yelled Ginny, landing a little way off and flinging her broomstick aside. "Don't touch him!"

She practically shoved Harry aside as she fell to her knees beside her brother, fumbling for his wrist to find a pulse.

"He's OK, he's OK," she muttered under her breath. She tore his sodden Quidditch robes apart and flung them away, running her hands gently over his arms and legs searching for broken bones. Already a dark, bloody bruise was spreading across Ron's jaw and neck, spattered by rain and staining the grass below.

"Is he - is he - ?" Hermione was shaking from head to foot, as white as a ghost. 

"He's breathing," replied Ginny, simply. "Lend me your wand, 'Mione, quickly!"

Trembling, Hermione handed her the wand.

Harry watched numbly, his arm around Hermione, as Ginny ministered to her brother as calmly and efficiently as she had ministered to Charlie on the night of his attack. Something in her confident, capable attitude set off warning bells and red lights in his mind. Something was not right.

"Ginny - ?" began Hermione, weakly.

"He'll be OK," replied Ginny, straightening out Ron's arms and legs. She stripped off her own Quidditch robes and bundled them up, laying them underneath his head. "We need to get him up to the Infirmary out of the rain."

A flash of lightning forked through the grey clouds, followed closely by an ominous rumble of thunder.

"Quickly!" ordered Ginny, sweeping damp tendrils of hair out of her face and blinking away the rainwater.

_He'll be OK. He'll be OK, _thought Harry over and over again as the team filed through the castle corridors towards the Infirmary behind Ron's levitated form. Oh, Ginny could smooth over the roughest waters in all the world every time. She was amazing - utterly, wonderfully amazing.

It was then that it hit him, and he knew at last what she had been keeping from him for so long. A brief conversation some months before in the lounge at The Burrow came back to him, and realisation dawned.

_I'm an idiot! Why didn't I see it before?_

He stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, stunned by the sudden revelation. 

"I might have known she'd do something like this!" he muttered, aloud. "If you want Ginny Weasley to do something, tell her not to do it."

In a matter of minutes, frustration, relief, terror, and infuriation had all passed through Harry's system like wild fire, and his forehead furrowed.

_I think Ginny and I need to have a little chat!_


	29. The Eye of the Storm

****

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

The Eye of the Storm

Nobody felt like eating.

The rain continued to hurl itself wildly onto the window panes, blotting out the view of the Hogwarts grounds and replacing it with grey torrents of icy water pouring down the glass. Even up in the sound, solid Infirmary the eaves creaked and groaned with the force of the wind - a terrible, haunting sound that would make even the bravest invalid pull the duvet over their head and pray for an end to the storm.

Ron was the only occupant to be unphased by the noise and the sudden darkness, lost in a dreamless sleep that would last at least until tomorrow morning according to Madam Pomfrey. Then the damage could be assessed.

Hermione sat beside his bed, leaning her elbows on the mattress and staring exhaustedly at his face. In six hours she had not moved a muscle, and Madam Pomfrey watched her anxiously from the doorway of her office.

"You should eat something, Miss Granger," she said, earnestly. "It's past dinnertime, but I can send for a house-elf."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she replied, hoarsely.

Madam Pomfrey looked across at Ginny, standing at the window with her arms crossed, staring out into the darkness. And then at Harry, slouched in an armchair close to the fire, frowning into midair.

She sighed to herself, and retreated into her office once more.

The silence could have been sliced through with a knife.

Harry's eyes flickered towards Ginny. "Do you think your parents should be told?"

She returned his gaze and shook her head. "No, it would only worry them. There's no need until he regains consciousness, and then there may be no damage at all."

"What damage could there be?" Harry didn't want to know the answer.

"Loss of memory, perhaps. Or - " Ginny turned away and faced the window again. Her shoulders were shaking.

It was unbearable torture. Harry got to his feet and bridged the distance between them, his hands coming to rest gently on her upper arms. He could feel her warmth and smell the sweet fragrance of her silky hair. She sniffed slightly before turning into his arms.

She felt different somehow, and not like the other thrilling times he had been able to hold her. That spark of excitement was not there now, replaced by an overwhelming peace and warmth. She was so precious to him. He smiled into her hair.

_This_ was love.

How could he blame her for doing something he himself was doing, and almost all her brothers, and Hermione too? True, she was in more danger now than ever before, but how brave and strong and capable she was to do it! A medic in the field of battle, watching her closest friends and relatives charge off into unknown dangers and having to pick up the pieces afterwards. Perhaps that mattered more than the battle itself, in a way - having people like Ginny to hold everything together and bring hope to the hopeless.

Nobody but Ginny could do it. Nobody was better able to do it.

He pulled her closer, sweeping her long hair away from her cheeks and neck so he could see her beautiful face lying tearlessly against his chest, her arms around his waist.

_His_ Ginny. His beautiful, brave, fearless Ginny.

"You know, don't you?" she whispered.

"I know," he replied. 

"I should have told you."

"I was a prat, Gin. How could you have told me? I didn't deserve to be told."

"So you're not angry with me?" She raised her head, gazing into his eyes with wide, child-like eyes. 

"No," he smiled, brushing her cheek with his fingers lightly. She leaned into his caress, and laid her head against his shoulder again with a little sigh.

Perfect.

The storm was so loud that no-one heard the heavy Infirmary door open. 

"Harry!"

Harry turned round, his arm still around Ginny. Sirius was striding towards him across the stone floor, with Truth and Remus on his heels, his black cloak swirling out behind him like a cloud.

He paused long enough to glance over at Ron, by whose bed Hermione still sat, watching his face like a hawk for the first signs of life.

"How's he doing?" he asked, anxiously.

"Out like a light," replied Harry, wondering what could have brought three Order members out of the Founders' Rooms before midnight.

Remus went to Hermione and laid a hand on her shoulder, comfortingly.

"You're as cold as ice, Hermione," he said. "You should go to bed. We'll watch over him."

"No," she replied, firmly. "I'll wait here until he wakes up."

"That could take days."

"I've got days."

Remus glanced towards Sirius and shook his head. 

"I'm sorry, Ginny," said Sirius, softly. "But well done."

She smiled weakly at him. "Thankyou."

"What brings you down here?" asked Harry, suspiciously. It was dangerous for them to walk the school without the cover of darkness and the curfew.

Truth had been walking the length and breadth of the Infirmary, peering out of every window and opening and closing every door. "A little matter of security," she said, simply.

"Security?"

Sirius took a deep breath and exchanged glances with Truth. She nodded.

"Last night," he began, "ten Order members stormed a tumbledown farmhouse in west Russia. Three were killed, one was put under _Crucio_, and two are being put back together again by Healers in Moscow. The farmhouse was being used as a meeting point by a small group of Voldemort's followers to plan attacks on couriers coming to and from Britain. I don't know where they got the tip-off from, but they caught Macnair and Avery redhanded along with two others from the Russian sector. The rest got away or were killed in the skirmish. The result of this is that we are now able to question Macnair and the others and get some idea as to what Voldemort's next move is going to be."

"What if they don't talk?" asked Harry, with a frown.

"Oh, they've already talked," replied Sirius, grimly. "Dumbledore has just received word that Voldemort intends to breach the school as soon as he has enough Death Eaters concentrated in this area. He means to take on the whole Order if he has to, though Merlin knows how he got the information that we were gathering here! His chief aim is, however, to terminate your life, Harry, so you'd better listen damn hard to what we've got to say!"

Ginny's grip on Harry's arm tightened convulsively, and the colour drained from her cheeks.

"Sensitive way of putting it, Black," muttered Truth, scowling at him.

"We don't have time for sensitivity!" he snapped. "We need to take action and now, before he finds out we know his plans. As soon as the ones that got away report back that Macnair and the others have been taken, he'll know straight away that they will have talked, and he'll do something horrendous as quickly as he can."

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"Like launch some kind of attack to remove our defences from Hogwarts so he can breach the school while we have weakened forces."

Madam Pomfrey emerged suddenly from the shadows, her expression stern. "Mr Black. I appreciate that you have important military concerns regarding the present situation, but may I remind you that this is a school?"

"School or not, Madam Pomfrey, it will be under attack before spring and it's better that everyone should be prepared than to be taken unawares."

"Surely the children should be sent away!" she exclaimed in horror. "Surely the Headmaster means to evacuate the school!"

Sirius nodded, calmly. "Preparations are underway, but we'll never get everyone out before Voldemort decides to strike. It's an impossible feat! Especially after he hears of Macnair's little indiscretion, he'll attack immediately and without warning."

A little cough from the direction of Ron's bed brought everyone's attention to Hermione, still sitting pale and wide-eyed in the armchair there. "Hogwarts is protected by hundreds of spells and incantations. He can't possibly breach them all!"

Sirius shook his head sadly. "You're forgetting the devious assistance he has from Lucius Malfoy and that formidable ilk. Malfoy knows every spell that was ever put on this school, except for the oldest and most obscure which Voldemort has spent the past three years trying to crack."

"Malfoy!" exclaimed Harry, suddenly, making Ginny jump in surprise. "_Draco _Malfoy, Sirius! He's been creeping around in the dead of night and he's definitely up to no good. Remus, you saw him too!"

Remus nodded. "No proof, though, Harry. But I would love to be able to arrest Draco Malfoy for conspiracy and treason."

"You've got enough on his father, though," Ginny pointed out. "Dumbledore ought to be aware of the danger. Why doesn't he expel him?"

Sirius gave a hollow chuckle. "I'm sure you'd enjoy that, Ginny, as we all would, but unfortunately it's too late even if Draco is being used by Voldemort to spy. The damage is done."

"How do we know Voldemort knows how to breach the spells?" insisted Harry. "If there is still just a few he can't crack, surely that gives us a chance?"

"Not much of one," replied Sirius, gravely. "It buys us time, but only a matter of days. We don't know when he'll decide to attack, but we can be sure that he'll use counterfeit in some form or another to divert us, which is why we need to gather all the forces we can in and around Hogwarts."

"What is the Ministry doing about it?" demanded Ginny. "Aren't they organising defence?"

Sirius' gaunt, tense face broke into a handsome grin. "The Ministry, for want of a better expression, is about to finally get its arse into gear and do something sensible, yes. That idiot Fudge was kicked out three days ago, and they've got a new man on the job."

Ginny echoed his grin, and squeezed Harry's arm again. "It's Dad, isn't it?"

Sirius nodded. "He's been in the job twenty-four hours and already he's accomplished more that Fudge did in fourteen years! He's got every official in Europe on stand-by, and he's going to spend the next few days stationing reserves as close to Hogwarts as he can get them. He's having to be damned economical, though. We're outnumbered even with the reserves, and we need every man we can get!"

"Do we have a plan, Sirius?" asked Hermione. "What should we do?"

"The Order is convening here tomorrow night, with every member who can make it from the corners of the globe. Dumbledore is going to arrange for the first and second years to be taken home by the Hogwarts Express as soon as possible, hopefully the day after tomorrow. All you can do is keep practising your defence skills and sit tight until we know more. Ginny, that includes you, I think," he added, with a fond smile. "No need for secrets any more."

She smiled back and shook her head.

"And look after Ron," said Truth, softly. "He needs to get better so he can help us." She gave Hermione a swift hug which was gratefully received, before sweeping out of the Infirmary.

"Where's she off to?" asked Harry.

"Order members don't arrive in random places without being told, Potter," replied Sirius with a grin. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Keep your chin up, lad. It could be worse. We've got time. Just watch out for yourself, and tell me or Remus or Truth or somebody about ANYTHING odd going on, OK?"

Harry nodded.

Sirius paused in the doorway as he and Remus began to follow Truth out into the corridor. "Oh, and Harry? Don't do anything stupid, will you?" And with a final grin, he was gone.

Harry snorted. "He's got a lot of confidence in me, hasn't he?"

"He's worried," said Ginny, moving into his embrace again. "He tries to smile and make a joke out of it, but his eyes give him away. He's petrified you'll walk right into danger."

"I don't walk into it," objected Harry. "Danger just seems to find me."

Ginny, as she had not been deceived by Sirius, was not deceived by Harry either. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head down close to hers.

"Everything will be OK," she said, softly. "Ron will be OK, Hogwarts will be OK, we'll all be OK. Don't worry, Harry."

Oh, he wanted to kiss her so badly, right then and there. Her beautiful, shining eyes were gazing into his, her arms held him, her body was pressed so close, her lips were inches from his own, just like the night of his birthday party. It would have been so easy -

Reminded just in time that his best friend and Ginny's brother was lying comatose in the same room, watched over vigilantly by a pale Hermione, Harry contented himself with a brief kiss on her forehead before leading her over towards the bed.

"How is he doing?" he asked.

"He hasn't woken up," answered Hermione, blandly. Kneeling beside the bed, her palm rested gently on Ron's hand.

"He will," said Harry, firmly. "He's got to."

Hermione smiled, and the familiar sparkle rose in her eyes again. "Or you'll do what?"

"Throw him off the Quidditch team, for a start." Harry sat down in the armchair and squeezed her shoulders. "But we need you too, 'Mione. Just in case he's lazy enough to miss Voldemort's arrival."

"You can't fool me, Potter," she said, with a little laugh. She nudged him gently. "You're worried too."

"Of course I am. But I _know _Ron's going to be all right, just like I _know_ we're going to get through this attack in one piece. _All_ of us. We just need to stay strong."

Hermione sniffed, and brought Ron's hand up close to her face, leaning against Harry's leg. Harry felt Ginny's familiar touch on his shoulder, and he turned to smile into her mesmerising eyes, glittering like stars. Slowly, she slid onto his lap, her arm around his neck.

"We make a good team, don't we?" she whispered, reaching out to take Hermione's free hand in hers.

"A damn good team," agreed Hermione, with an affirmative nod.

They stayed like that for a while, until the storm began to die down and the moon shone through the dark, churning clouds. His eyes never leaving the steady rise and fall of Ron's chest, Harry slipped into a half-daze. What stirred him he could not tell, but he raised his head to find Hermione kneeling beside Ron's bed, fast asleep with her head on the mattress beside him, and Ginny lying across his lap, her face, half covered by her hair, nestled against his shoulder.

Gently he shifted her weight to ease the growing numbness in his arm, and she sighed in her sleep. A thrilling warmth spread through his insides as she cuddled down closer to him, wafting her sweet perfume up to his nose.

He brushed her hair away from her face, letting his fingers linger on her soft cheek.

_Kiss her, you idiot_, a voice at the back of his head seemed to say.

If only he could!

_Why not? No-one will ever know._

He watched her sleep for a few moments, feeling himself being drawn by some invisible force. He oughtn't to, really. There seemed something quite deceitful about kissing a girl without her knowing about it. 

_Not if she wants you to._

How could he tell, though? For weeks he had been psyching himself up for the news that she had chosen Malfoy, and now to discover that she hadn't after all - what did that say? 

His brain hurt, and he shook his head slightly. Just because she wasn't with Malfoy didn't mean she would appreciate Harry kissing her while she was asleep, or awake, for that matter!

A nagging doubt at the back of his mind refused to go away. How was it that Malfoy had known all along what Ginny was up to? Why would she possibly have told him?

"Forget it, Potter. If I know what's going on and you don't - I think that says it all, don't you?" he had said, in that pretentious, icily charming voice of his. If ever that boy deserved a black eye it had been at that moment.

Blackmail, perhaps? Yes - perhaps he had discovered Ginny's secret and she had made him promise not to tell anyone. In exchange for what, though? Harry shivered, and decided he didn't want to think about that.

For Merlin's sake, world war had practically been declared three hours before!

__

Exactly. You might not get another chance, the little voice said, earnestly.

Harry paused for a moment, gazing down at Ginny's sleeping face. Defeatist and exaggerated it may have been, but something clicked inside him just then.

His Ginny - his beautiful, brave Ginny was in as much danger as Ron and Hermione now. If she ever became his, that would put her right up with him as number one on the death list. How easy it would be for Voldemort to get whatever he wanted from Harry if Ginny was the bait! 

_It must never happen, _he told himself. _Never. No-one must ever know how I feel about her._

Without more hesitation, Harry bent his head and gently pressed his lips against hers.

__

Oh, so soft. So warm. If only -

"I should punch you on the nose for that, Potter," came a weak, croaky voice from Harry's elbow.

Harry's head shot up, his eyes meeting a pair of vivid blue ones staring straight back at him from under a mop of messy red hair.

"You did it!" Harry blurted out, too shocked to say anything sensible.

"You're cheating. _She's_ asleep!" Ron nodded his head towards his sister.

"Oh, you idiot, Ron," Harry found himself saying. "If you'd hung around long enough you'd have discovered that she did actually want you to do it!"

Ron gazed at him, bemusedly. "What?"

"Look at her," said Harry, nodding to Hermione, fast asleep beside Ron's bed, her fingers still entwined with his. "She hasn't moved a muscle since you got here, and she hasn't taken her eyes off your face once. Don't tell me she doesn't care about you! She's been damn near sick with worry."

"She has?" Ron's eyes fell to the sleeping form kneeling beside him, a flood of warmth brightening his tired eyes.

"She has."

Harry smiled as Ron slowly raised a hand and lightly touched Hermione's hair with his fingertips. It was time for him to leave now, he thought. He could practically hear his own bed calling him, and now he knew Ron was awake and all right, he could sleep soundly. Hermione would wake up and find Ron gazing stupidly at her and all would be well, and about time too.

Gently, Harry lifted Ginny in his arms and carried her across the Infirmary and out of the door. She must have been exhausted, because she didn't stir once on the short journey to Gryffindor Tower, despite the howling gale that blew through the narrow corridors, shaking the windows and making the figures in the portraits mutter furiously all along the walls.

"How is she?" asked a soft, familiar voice from the shadows.

"Worn out," he replied. "Ron's awake, but she needs to sleep before she's told."

Truth nodded, with an engaging half-smile. "Miss Weasley doesn't do things by halves, does she? Come on - I know just the thing."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, you can't take her up to her dormitory and you can't give up your bed for her in a room full of seventh-year boys so you'd better bring her over to the Founders' Rooms. There's something we need to tell you anyway."

Too tired to question her further, Harry obediently followed her downstairs and through the passageway behind Godric Gryffindor. Ginny weighed almost nothing in his arms, and still she slept like a baby, her head against his shoulder.

Truth stopped beside a small oak door and opened the latch.

"Put her in here," she said, pointing to a four-poster bed leaning against the farside wall. "And then come downstairs. Third door on the left after you pass the bust of Hermes at the foot of the stairs."

And then she was gone in a whirl of black cloak.

A fire was burning in the grate, but that was all Harry took in of the little room. Carefully he laid Ginny on the bed and drew the covers over her, smiling as she unconsciously turned towards him.

"See you tomorrow, Gin," he whispered, brushing aside her hair. "Sleep well."

With a final, lingering glance at her in the doorway, he left her to her dreams.


	30. Christmas is Coming

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

**Christmas is Coming**

Harry glanced at the bust of Hermes as he passed it sitting morosely on its marble plinth. A pair of lifeless eyes gazed back at him, cold and empty. 

"You look how I feel," he muttered, continuing down the narrow corridor towards the third door on the left. He was too tired to take in much about his surroundings, but he could tell straight away that these rooms were much further down than the Founders' Gallery. Although brightly lit by braziers on the wall, the hallway had clearly been coated in dust and cobwebs until fairly recently. Harry saw several defiant spiders clinging onto their webs in the darkest corners, and was grateful that Ron was elsewhere. 

He paused outside the third door on the left and leaned his ear towards the wood. Apart from the clink of glass, the only other noise he could hear was Sirius' voice, raised in annoyance over everyone else's. 

"I fail to see that this has any relevance whatever. Harry knew what he was doing when he took this on, and he'll see it through to the end no matter what." 

"Oh, Sirius, I think you're being very narrow-minded!" came a very familiar voice. Harry blinked. Mrs Weasley? Here, at Hogwarts? 

"_Narrow-minded_?" 

"Yes! You always did have a blind spot when it came to Harry, and you seem to forget that he's just a boy." 

"He's nearly eighteen!" exclaimed Truth, with one of her rich laughs tinged with sarcasm. "He may be young, but he's a man now, with a man's responsibilities and problems." 

"I think it's you that's being narrow-minded, Molly," said Sirius, gruffly. "You will insist upon pandering to him as though he's still eleven years old." 

"I remember him at eleven years old, Sirius, which you aren't able to!" sniffed Mrs Weasley. 

"Now, Molly, don't get upset," came Mr Weasley's soft voice. "We are all very fond of the lad, but Truth is right. Have you forgotten how he brought Ginny out of the Chamber of Secrets when he was little more than twelve? How he fought a Hungarian Horntail using only his wits? He didn't even go to pieces when he appeared on the Quidditch Pitch clutching the corpse of a school friend and raving about how Voldemort had come back to power! He never has been an ordinary boy, Molly, and it isn't fair that you should treat him as though he is." 

"Quite right," agreed Sirius, emphatically. "He grew up a long time ago when it comes to sense, and I admit that it took me a hell of a lot longer. It's been two months since he started training and he's already pretty lethal with a sword, not to mention a wand." 

"So where do we go from here?" asked Truth. "Reckon he's ready to be set loose at night?" 

"Definitely. But I want to do some scouting myself first. He's not going to like the you-know-what, and I don't want Snape making it worse." 

Harry frowned suspiciously and pressed his ear closer to the door, wishing his head wasn't aching so badly. 

"Snape is an arrogant, miserable bastard," spat Truth, venomously. "And I wish to kill him." 

Sirius snorted with laughter. "Afterwards perhaps, and then I'll help you." 

"You're digressing again," said Remus, in amusement. "You were saying about the next step - " 

"Hang on a minute. Harry! I know you're out there. Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?" The door was flung open and Sirius leaned against the frame, arms crossed, dark hair falling across his eyes. "You're becoming as bad as Moony for appearing out of nowhere." 

Harry grinned and slapped him on the shoulder as he slipped past into the room. "It's the only way I can find things out. I wish you lot wouldn't talk about me behind my back so much. It's unnerving walking right into a conversation about yourself." 

He flopped into an armchair and let out a long breath, allowing himself the luxury of gazing around at his surroundings for a moment or two. 

It was a beautiful, classical drawing room, with a high ceiling and tall, lattice windows reaching from the roof to the flagstone floor. Something about the hot, crackling fire and the amber glow settling on the mahogany furniture reminded Harry faintly of the Gryffindor common room on Christmas Day. All that was missing to complete the ambience was the familiar parchmenty, coffee-bean smell, and a heap of ribbon and wrapping paper scattered across the floor. 

_This is how I'd want my drawing room to look_, he thought, stretching out his legs luxuriously. 

"How's Ginny?" asked Truth, sitting down opposite him on an elegant chaise longue. She had abandoned her customary black for a becoming shade of indigo, and her dark eyes were glittering intently in the firelight. Beside her, seated on a long, delicately embroidered sofa were Mr and Mrs Weasley, both viewing Harry with something that bordered on suspicion, though he couldn't think why. 

"Asleep," he replied, rubbing his aching temple absently. 

"And Ron?" asked Mrs Weasley, eagerly. 

"He'll be fine," Harry assured her. "He's awake and criticizing me and gazing rapturously at Hermione, so he's back to his old self." 

Cutting off Mrs Weasley's astonished exclamation before she could get going, Sirius gestured to the bottle of ruby wine on the coffee table. 

"Give the man some alcohol, someone," he suggested, with a surreptitious wink at his godson. 

"Sirius, really!" gasped Mrs Weasley, clutching at the armrest in horror. 

"We were just arguing about how old you are, Harry, as you probably heard," continued Sirius, as Remus handed Harry a glass glowing with vivid crimson. Mrs Weasley fell silent. 

Sirius cleared his throat. "Yes, we were going to tell you this after the Christmas Ball, Harry, but after today's news we've decided we'd better tell you now. It's important that we all stay together over the next few weeks, in case something happens. So, you and Ron and Ginny and Hermione are going to pack up your things and move over here permanently tomorrow." 

Harry frowned. "Are we back on the 'we need to keep an eye on four reckless teenagers' thing again?" 

"No! I'm offended that you think so badly of me, Harry," said Sirius, with affected distress. "I would trust you with my life. Not my broomstick, but definitely my life." 

"Oi!" laughed Harry. 

"Please, boys, be serious," pleaded Mrs Weasley. "This is a very critical moment. I don't know how you can be so flippant!" 

"It's a matter of morale," replied Mr Weasley, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "Try not to worry, dear. For the moment all we can do is plan, and not fret." 

"Exactly," nodded Truth. Harry observed that Remus had settled beside her on the chaise longue, and she had leaned back very close to him - so close that his breath stirred the loose tendrils of hair at her neck. What was going on there? He decided it was none of his business and turned back to his godfather. 

"So what exactly are we, then? Ron, Hermione and I, I mean. Are we students, or trainees, or Order members, or what?" 

"I'd say you were a bit of all three, which doesn't help much," replied Sirius, his blue eyes alive in the fireglow. "Act like a student, work like a trainee, and think like an Order member. Especially the latter. Your life might depend on it one day." 

"I wish you'd let me stay here, Sirius," burst out Mrs Weasley, suddenly. "I would feel so much easier if I could - " 

"Keep an eye on four reckless teenagers?" suggested Sirius, sweetly. "I understand your concern, Molly, but they will be as safe here as anywhere. Arthur needs you at home." 

"Yes, congratulations on the promotion, sir," said Harry, belatedly remembering the news he had heard earlier that day. 

"Thankyou, Harry," said Mr Weasley, proudly throwing out his chest. "Things are going reasonably smoothly, but I ought to get back to the Ministry as soon as possible, Sirius." 

Sirius nodded, placing his glass on the table. "I'll call one of the carriages round to take you into Hogsmeade." 

"Can I see Ron before we go?" asked Mrs Weasley, hopefully. "Just for a moment?" 

Truth smiled. "I'll take you up to him." She disengaged herself from Remus (yes, his arm _was_ around her), and walked towards the door. 

"I'd knock first if I were you," suggested Harry, with a grin. Truth returned it, shepherding Mrs Weasley out before she could ask any embarrassing questions. 

Harry fell to musing on a number of things while they were absent, only half listening to Mr Weasley's enthusiastic tales about his new position and how things were faring at the Ministry. The similarity of the scene to the Gryffindor common room on Christmas Day had reminded him that there were barely two weeks until that very festival, and less than four days until the much-talked of Yule Ball. He couldn't hold back a wince as he recalled the last time he had attended one, and the various disasters that had plagued the evening from first to last. At least he wasn't obliged to dance this time, which was something to be very grateful for. 

At once his thoughts turned to Ginny, fast asleep down the corridor, her palm curled under her cheek and her hair blanketing the pillow in a cloud of fire. How was he going to survive living in such close quarters with her for the rest of the school year? It was going to be one hellish experience. Beautiful, but ultimately hellish. 

He sighed, and laid his head on the back of the armchair. 

The door creaked open as Truth and Mrs Weasley returned. 

"How is he?" asked Remus. 

"In perfect health, it seems," replied Mrs Weasley, pursing her lips. "Arthur, it's time to go. Give our love to Ginny, Harry, dear. I don't want to wake her up. Tell her that we're both very proud of her for what she did." 

"I will," said Harry, wondering what was making Truth shake with silent laughter. 

He found out five minutes later after the Weasleys' departure. 

"Poor Molly!" laughed Truth, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Her little boy's all grown up." 

"Yuck," said Harry, firmly, conveniently pushing aside the fact that Ron had woken up not so long ago to find his sister lying across Harry's lap being very definitely if very gently kissed. 

"There's another couple for the Christmas Ball then," chuckled Remus, dropping onto the sofa with his ankles crossed on the armrest. Truth neatly pushed his feet onto the floor and sat down. 

"Ah yes, I've been meaning to talk to you about that, mate," said Sirius, suddenly. He leaned forward and stared intently into Harry's face. 

"Should I be afraid?" asked Harry, nervously. 

"The Ball is on Friday," continued Sirius, ignoring him and the giggles on the sofa behind them. "At our fifth year Yule Ball we, um, began something that became a tradition. When we left, Truth's sister carried it on for us until _she_ left, but after that it became lost in the dim shadows of the past. In a moment of madness following a particularly nasty trick we played on a certain pain-in-the-arse Slytherin, we decided that it might be an amusing thing to get slightly drunk and climb up to the top of Gryffindor Tower with a view to tying each person's underwear on the flagpole." 

"You're joking?" said Harry, firmly believing it despite the sniggers from the sofa and Sirius' twitching lips. 

"I fear not, lad. You're duty bound to carry on the custom!" 

"I refuse." 

"You can't. Your father would be ashamed of you." 

"Please tell me it was not his idea." 

"It was his idea to get drunk and climb up Gryffindor Tower. The underwear on the flagpole was my contribution." He grinned, proudly. 

Harry rolled his eyes. "I might have known." 

"Come on, Harry, show him you're as good a man as he is!" laughed Truth, placing her feet firmly on the coffee table. 

Harry returned his godfather's grin. "All right, you're on!" 

"The minimum number is four, remember. The more pairs blowing in the wind on Saturday morning the better, all right?" 

Harry stared at him for a moment. "Didn't you ever get caught?" 

At precisely the same moment as Sirius' ears turned pink, Remus and Truth burst into laughter so hearty that two glasses of wine went flying. 

"Once," admitted Sirius, running lean fingers through his dark hair. "But that wasn't my fault." 

"It so totally was!" exclaimed Truth, reaching for her wand to clear up the mess on the rug. "We told you we should get out before anyone realised where we'd gone, but you didn't listen!" 

Harry grinned. "What happened?" 

Remus raised himself into a sitting position. "Professor McGonagall found out about our little escapade at our seventh year Ball, and she thought she would foil our plan by using a different doorway onto the tower. There's a passageway from the seventh year boys' dormitory up to the roof, which you have no doubt discovered. Of course we failed to realise that the staff hold keys to all the rooms, so we only kept guard at the main passage. James and Lily and Truth and I got out as soon as we could and made it back to the Great Hall, but Sirius and his girlfriend of the time decided it would be an interesting idea to stay up there for a while and, um, watch the sunrise, was it?" 

Truth giggled, and fell back onto the cushions again. Sirius glared at his friend. 

"How was I to know she would appear just as I'd decided to take advantage of the mistletoe?" 

"Yes, whatever you do, Harry, don't get caught," laughed Remus. "Or at least watch both doors." 

Harry groaned. "And again I say 'Yuck!' I don't want to know any more. I'm going to bed." 

"That tower has seen a lot of illicit activity over the years," said Truth, rising to her feet and moving to the mantelpiece. "Granted, a large proportion was ours, but still." 

"Keep up the good work, Harry," said Sirius, grinning reminiscently. "Make us proud." 

*** 

When Harry awoke, it was to the white glare of sunlight pouring in through the window of the drawing room. Blinking, he stretched out his stiff limbs and groped around for his watch on the floor alongside the chaise longue he had fallen asleep on. The little fluorescent hands read half past three. 

The prospect of walking all the way back to Gryffindor Tower in the freezing cold at four in the morning had not appealed much for some reason. Sirius had told him to stay in the drawing room until morning, and Harry remembered seeing him sitting on the windowseat with his knees drawn up to his chest, staring thoughtfully out into the darkness. His last waking thought had been of how worried he had looked, and how dangerous this game was that they were playing. Still, he knew that none of them would back out now, and Mr Weasley had been right when he said that morale must be kept up against all the odds. 

As he rose awkwardly into a sitting position, Harry detected the faint odour of cinnamon and wine in the air, wafting towards him through the slightly open door. The room was freezing cold, the fire having died out hours ago, and a frosty film covered the window panes. 

"Afternoon, lazy," said a low voice. Harry turned his head to see Hermione leaning against the doorframe, cheeks flushed, her hair tied back in a messy bun. 

"What are you up to?" he asked, groggily. 

"Sirius said we could decorate some of the rooms ready for Christmas," she replied. "Hagrid brought us a huge fir tree this morning, and Dobby has come to help." 

Harry groaned. "Oh dear." 

"He got a little over-excited with the tinsel a little while ago," she said, smiling. "The Gallery is now completely covered in glitter and bits of tree!" 

"Do you need a hand?" 

"No, it's fine. Ginny and Ron are helping. He's totally himself again, and I'm having a hell of a time trying to stop him poking at all the presents. We've brought all your things over and put them in one of the rooms upstairs. It's got a beautiful view over the lake! I'll show you, come on. And then we'll find the others and have something to eat." 

Harry allowed himself to be dragged out into the hallway, back up the flight of stairs that led to the bedrooms. 

"This one is Sirius'," she began, pointing to each door in turn. "That's Ron's. Remus' is just up those stairs and round the corner. Truth's is nextdoor to mine - just there. Ginny is in the one you put her in last night, and you're on the end, just the other side of that table. We've all got our own bathroom and everything! Remus' room has a balcony outside too!" 

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?" 

She waved her hand impatiently. "Oh, we've all been given the grand tour by Sirius. It's just like a conference centre or something. Luxury compared to Gryffindor Tower! We'll show you round the whole suite later, but right now you should have a shower. You look terrible." 

"Thanks!" He grinned as she shoved him into his room. 

"Come find us in the Gallery when you're done," she said, giving him an enthusiastic grin as she hurried back down the hall to the stairs. 

*** 

As the hot water sprayed over him, refreshing and invigorating as one, Harry reflected that the next few months might prove to be very interesting after all. The idea of living together in an isolated little community was quite appealing, especially considering that all his favourite people were involved. Hermione had obviously already taken on the role of domestic manager, to which the others seemed to be complying tolerantly. Even Dobby had appeared to join the madness. 

He laughed aloud as he envisioned the house-elf dancing excitably round the Christmas tree wearing a scarlet Father Christmas hat with a bell on the end, scattering wrapping paper and tinsel everywhere, while Truth sat at the piano playing carols, with Ron and Hermione giggling in the corner over some private joke, and Sirius telling hilarious stories of Marauder Christmasses long gone. Remus would be standing by the mantelpiece as usual, with the customary glass of wine, his vibrant eyes narrowed intently as he gazed at his beautiful partner. Somehow the word 'girlfriend' didn't seem to apply to Truth's passionate and stylish personality. 

And among all of this, Ginny would be as a bright star, preferably standing as close to the mistletoe as possible. Harry could practically see her in his mind's eye, hair falling freely to her waist in a sheet of red-gold, smiling at him in that special way he sometimes observed. 

The vision was so attractive that he sighed contentedly. 

_Perhaps this is what it feels like to have a proper family._

__


End file.
